The Innocent Page 3

  "Are you permitted to speak with me, lady?" he asked her.

  "Aye," she replied. "We are not a cloistered order."

  "You have not been home to Ashlin since you were brought to the convent," he said. It was not a question.

  "No," Elf replied. "Tell me of my brother, sir. How ill is he, and what has been done for him?"

  "Richard is dying" came the blunt answer.

  "Mon Dieu!" the girl exclaimed, and then blushed with the knowledge that she had sworn an oath.

  "The lady Isleen cares for her husband with the devotion of an angel," Saer de Bude continued. "He is a fortunate man, your brother."

  "Why is he dying?" Elf demanded of her companion. "What is the matter with him, good sir? Surely a physician was sent for and a diagnosis made."

  "There has been no physician at Ashlin," Saer de Bude replied. "We would have had to send to Worcester for one. At first your brother’s illness was not thought to be serious."

  "I assist the infirmarian at the convent," Elf told him. "I will want to examine my brother, although I am certainly no expert. Still, Sister Winifred says I am the best assistant she has ever had. I am certain there is something I can do to help my brother."

  "The lady Isleen will be most grateful," Saer de Bude replied.

  "How came you to Ashlin?" Elf asked him.

  "My mother was a de Warenne" was the reply. "The lady Isleen is my cousin. Her family thought I could be of help to your brother."

  "I am certain Richard is grateful," Elf answered him primly. Then she grew silent again. She had, of course, only met her sister-in-law once, and perhaps she had judged her through the eyes of a small child, ripped from her home, and put in a strange place. This was the person who had taken her beloved Dickon from her. That Isleen was extravagantly beautiful had not helped. Her hair had been like golden thistledown touched by the moonlight. Her eyes were a deep blue, and her skin was as pure as cream, her cheeks touched with just the faintest hint of rose. She had smelled of roses, too. A delicious, heady scent that bespoke elegance. It was difficult for a little girl just five and a half years of age, in a dull gray gown, to like such a woman. And Isleen had made no effort herself to draw her bridegroom’s little sister to her heart. That one visit had been brief, with Isleen staring out the window of the visitor’s chamber while Dickon spoke briefly, his eyes always going to his bride until he could seemingly not bear it any longer, and they had taken their leave of Elf.

  But now her brother and his wife, childless after all their years of marriage, had sent for her. I must not judge Isleen by that one visit, Elf chided herself silently. Still, they could have surely afforded the expense of a physician. Yet she loves my brother, and has taken good care of him. It must break her heart that God has not blessed them with sons and daughters. I must greet her as my sister, and as if it were the first time we met. I will love her because she loves Dickon. Has not our dear Lord said we must love one another as we love Him?

  "You have not yet taken your vows?" Saer de Bude spoke again. "Do you really wish to be a nun, and do you never consider the joys of marriage, lady?"

  "I have never wanted to be anything but a nun," Elf answered him honestly. "I bless the day my brother brought me to St. Frideswide's, although at the time, I was frightened, and confused. I had just lost my mother and never knew my sire, you see. All I had were Dickon and my old nurse, Ida. The nuns, however, mothered me and taught me. And one day I realized how happy I was in their company, how happy I was that I should join their ranks and have the privilege of serving God forever."

  "I can understand," he told her. "I always wanted to be a knight, and fight in the king’s service. I am happiest when doing it."

  They rode on in silence for a time.

  "Do you think you could go a bit faster?" he finally asked her.

  "I think so," Elf responded, "but if I become frightened, will you stop, sir?"

  "Aye." He grunted, and kicked his own animal into a gentle canter.

  The mare followed, with Elf leaning forward just slightly into the faster gait. She was quite surprised that she could do it, for she had only cantered a few times, but it was not unpleasant at all. She could feel a light wind on her face, and there was a freedom about it that was positively exhilarating. Sister Cuthbert was always teasing Elf that joy was not forbidden within the order, for Elf had a great tendency to be quite serious. Finally after a time she began to grow tired and called to him to stop.

  "Forgive me, lady, you are so quiet I almost forgot you are here. Of course you will want to stop and rest a bit. It is not far once we begin to ride again. Let me help you down." Reaching up Saer de Bude lifted Elf from her saddle, setting her upon the ground. "There is a stream just down the slope there. Would you like a drink?"

  "No, thank you," Elf said. "I only wish to stretch my legs a moment before we travel onward." She looked about her. "Are we on Ashlin land? It has been many years, but it does seem familiar."

  "Indeed, lady, your memory is a good one. Aye, we are on your brother’s lands. We have just about two more miles to go, and you will be home again." Then he smiled toothily at her.

  He made her uncomfortable, Elf thought. Was it because he was a man and she was not used to men; or was it something particular to him? She glanced casually at him. He was a pleasant enough looking man. Stocky, of medium height with gold hair and dark eyes. His face was just slightly pockmarked, but not enough to spoil his good looks. His round face was edged with a beard and mustache that connected about his mouth. The beard was barbered and short. He was well dressed, but not ostentatiously so, in medium brown and green garments, and Elf noted that his boots, though well used, were of the best leather.

  Saer de Bude drank from a small flask he carried. Wiping his mouth with his hand, he went off into the bushes, and she blushed to hear him relieving himself. When he returned, he said, "If you are certain you want nothing to drink, then let us be on our way again."

  Elf nodded in the negative. She was thirsty, but terrified to drink anything lest she should have to pee. How could she while in the company of this man? "Let us go, sir," she said. "I am as anxious as you to reach Ashlin." Then she looked past his shoulder as his hands lifted her up into the saddle again. "Thank you, sir," she told him. "I am well settled now."

  He gave her a curt acknowledgment and after climbing upon his own horse, led her off again. Finally they came through a dense wood, and on the hill beyond, Elf saw her childhood home, the small stone manor house lit by the late afternoon sun. Her heart stirred within her, and unaware of her actions, she kicked the little mare into a gallop, racing across a meadow, scattering the sheep as she went. Her companion, startled at first, followed after her, rather surprised by the little nun’s show of enthusiasm. He hadn't expected it in one so meek and mild. He chuckled. The next few days would certainly prove interesting indeed. He wondered if this bit of spirit was unusual, or if beneath her mouse gray robes, and prim little white wimple, Eleanore de Montfort was perhaps intelligent and lively. Isleen was not expecting that, nor would she like it one bit, but his cousin, he knew, would wait to see the lay of the land before making any move. What had begun as a simple mission to bring Richard de Montfort’s sister from her convent was now appearing to become a most fascinating and intriguing matter. Saer de Bude chuckled again.

  Chapter 2

  A young serf helped Elf from her mount. "Welcome home, lady," he said. She did not recognize him at first, but thanked him. "Please see the mare is treated kindly," she told the boy. "She is the abbess’s personal mount, and must be returned to St. Frideswide’s in two days' time."

  He nodded. "I shall care for her myself, lady. I am Arthur, Ida’s grandson. I did not expect you to remember me."

  "But I do!" Elf exclaimed. "We played together as children, and when my mother died you brought me daisies you had picked in the meadow. You cried when I went away. I remember you standing by your grandmother’s side, sniffling, and wiping your eyes with your sleev
e. May God bless you, Arthur, and always keep you from harm."

  Arthur nodded his head in acknowledgment, a smile on his face, and then he led the mare away toward the stables.

  Saer de Bude cantered in through the gates of the manor then, and called out to Elf, "Lady, wait, and I will escort you to your brother." He slid from his horse. Grabbing Arthur by the neck of his smock, he said, "Here, lad, take my horse with you, too."

  "You are kind, sir, but I remember my way," Elf called to her escort.

  "Lady," he said, walking over and taking a firm grip on her arm. "I was sent to bring you to Ashlin, and I would not be doing my duty in full if I did not escort you directly to my cousin and your brother." He led her into the house and to the manor hall. "Cousin, I have returned!"

  Isleen de Montfort turned quickly, a smile upon her face. Then she hurried forward. "Welcome home to Ashlin, my dear Eleanore," she purred. "I am so sorry your visit must be a sad one."

  It suddenly crossed Elf’s mind to say that her sister-in-law might have asked her sooner, and in happier times, but she pushed the uncharitable thought away. Holding out her hands, she went to Isleen and kissed her on both cheeks. "May God bless you for calling me, Isleen. Your cousin has told me how devoted your care of Dickon has been, but now I am here, and I shall help you. Where is my brother?"

  "He is there." Isleen pointed to the cot that was set by the fireplace. "He sleeps now, but he will awaken when you call him. I shall leave you alone for your reunion. Come, cousin. You must escort me while I walk about my gardens and take the air."

  Elf did not even notice her sister-in-law and the knight depart. She was staring, horrified, at her brother as he slept. Richard was practically a skeleton, and his skin tone was an unhealthy yellow gray. He had been a handsome man, but now his cheeks were sunken, his nose prominent, and his cheekbones quite visible. The skin was stretched tightly over his skull, and his once fine russet hair was so thin he was almost bald in places. Elf knelt by her brother’s cot, her eyes tear-filled. "Dickon," she said softly to him. "Dickon, I have come home to make you well again."

  Richard de Montfort’s gray eyes opened slowly. A bony hand gripped her arm. "Who are you?" he rasped.

  "It is I, Dickon. It is Elf," she said. "Your sister." Undoing the chin strap that held her wimple in place, she pulled the covering from her head so that he might see her hair. Then she smiled.

  "Elf," he said softly. "Is it really you? You have grown."

  "I would hope so, brother." She laughed. "It has been nine years since we last saw each other. I was but a little girl of five years, Dickon. I am now fourteen, and soon to take my vows, but Isleen sent for me, as you are gravely ill. I am the assistant infirmarian at the convent. Perhaps I can help you."

  He smiled back at her. "I am dying, Elf, and there is no help for me," he said. "When I am gone, sister, Ashlin will be yours."

  "But what of Isleen?" Elf asked him, astounded. "Isleen is your wife, Dickon. Ashlin should be hers, not mine."

  "Isleen’s dower portion will be restored, and she will be returned to the de Warennes," he told Elf. "Ashlin, by law, is yours. You have not taken your final vows yet, Elf. If you decide to, you may take a husband instead. Ashlin is small, but it is a respectable dower portion. Allow St. Frideswide’s to have the dowry I paid them when you went there. It is only fair. They have cared for and educated you all these years."

  "But I don't want a husband," Elf told her brother. "I am content to take my final vows, Dickon. Besides, I do not intend to allow you to die on me. I am an excellent herbalist. Tell me your symptoms. When did you begin to grow ill?"

  "Well over a year ago," he replied. "At first it was just my belly. It would take offense at some food or other, but in a day or so I would be well. Then, however, I became sick more and more. My guts began to burn with an unquenchable fire. I began to have bouts of weakness. I could not walk, or ride, or even stand. Then the sickness would go, and I would recover only to grow ill again. Now I can keep nothing on my belly, and as you can see, my hair and teeth have begun to fall out. Even I can tell that I am dying, Elf. I do not believe that you can help me, little sister."

  "I can try," she told him fervently. "I can try, Dickon!"

  "I cannot feel worse than I already do," he said with a wry smile.

  "Why do you have no children?" Elf asked him frankly.

  "It is Isleen," he replied, "although I dare not tell her, for it would break her heart. I have two sons and a daughter among the serfs, but you must not say I told you so. She believes because I am ill, it is my fault, but it is not. You will keep my secret, Elf, will you not? I have confessed my fault to you, and are you not bound by your vocation to keep the knowledge of my sins to yourself? God will judge me." He smiled weakly at her.

  She wondered why he had felt it necessary to seek among the serf girls. Still, it was not her business, she decided, pushing the thoughts from her head. "I will keep your secret, brother," she promised. "Now, you must sleep again while I ask Isleen to find me a place to set up my herbarium. If I am to help you, I cannot delay. Where is old Ida?"

  "She has not spoken to me since the day I took you away, nor has she set foot in this house."

  "I will find her," Elf told him, "and she will help me to get you well, Dickon." She arose from his side, and calling to a servant, asked, "Where is the lady of the manor?"

  "She is in her gardens, lady," the servant answered.

  "Take me to her," Elf said, "and then go find old Ida. Tell her I am home, and I need her aid."

  Elf followed the servant to the manor garden, where the roses were already in bloom. The garden was not as well kept as it had been in her mother’s day, she noted. At first she did not see her sister-in-law, but then she spied Isleen with her cousin, their heads together, seated on a wooden bench at the far end of the garden. Elf called to her as the servant accompanying her hurried off in the opposite direction.

  Isleen seemed to leap from her seat and, turning about, came toward Elf. "Gracious, you startled me, Eleanore," she said. Her cheeks were flushed, and the color made her look all the more beautiful.

  "I do not mean to disturb you, sister, but I need a place where I may set up my little herbarium. I have seen Dickon now, and he is indeed seriously ill. I pray God I can help him."

  "As do I, dear sister," Isleen said sweetly. "There is a small shed at the end of the garden that I believe would be perfect for your purposes. Come, and see it." She was pointedly ignoring Saer de Bude now as if he did not even exist. Isleen’s pale blue skirts swayed gracefully as she moved through the rosebushes.

  The fragrance of the pink, white, and red blooms was heady. Large bumblebees floated about the flower heads, dipping into the blossoms to gather their nectar, the hum of their wings just barely audible. Elf followed in her sister-in-law’s perfumed wake to the edge of the garden, where a small, rather ramshackle building stood.

  "Will this do?" Isleen inquired in dulcet tones.

  "It will have to," Elf told her. "It’s really in the best place for my herbarium. Will you permit me to requisition some serfs to make any necessary repairs, Isleen?"

  "Of course" came the reply. "This is, after all, your home." The last was said a bit tartly, and Elf heard the change in tone in her companion’s voice.

  Isleen knows if Dickon dies that Ashlin is mine. She is bitter about it, Elf thought. "Thank you," she told Isleen.

  Isleen shrugged. "I will leave you to your work, then, Eleanore," she said, and hurried back up the garden path.

  "My baby! Is it really you?" An old woman hobbled into view.

  "Ida!" Elf’s face broke into a smile, and she enfolded the elderly nursemaid in her embrace. "Oh, Ida! How good it is to see you once again. Dickon tells me you have not spoken to him since I went to St. Frideswide's. That was really very bad of you, and now my poor brother lies ill unto death, I fear. I need your help, Ida."

  "Now that you are here, my baby, I will enter that house again, and make my pe
ace with the lord Richard. I swore I would not do it until you returned, and I have kept my promise." The old lady’s jaw was set firmly with her resolve, and her hazel eyes were sharp.

  "But what if I had not come home, Ida?" Elf gently said. "Surely you could not have allowed Dickon to go to his grave without your forgiveness?"

  "How could I forgive him when he chose her over his own blood?" Ida said fiercely. "It was her duty as lady of the manor to raise her husband’s younger sister as your mother was dead, God as-soil the lady Adeliza’s good and pure soul! Great heiresses have gone into their husband’s homes and raised their younger brothers and sisters, and even their children from earlier marriages. But not that one!"

  "You do not like her," Elf said quietly. "Why? Surely not just because Dickon sent me away, Ida?"

  "It began with that," Ida told her former charge. "But then I have watched these nine years while she lorded it over your poor, benighted brother. He thinks the sun rises and sets on her, he does. When she came to this house, not a servant did she bring from her father’s house, though he could have easily afforded to give her several. We quickly learned why, my child. She is a bad-tempered mistress, though never before your brother does she show her evil nature. She beats the servants at the slightest provocation, or complains to the lord Richard of some fault or slight in a servant that brings punishment. She is a wicked creature, my lady Elf, and you must beware of her!"

  "But her cousin tells me she has nursed my brother with utter devotion," Elf protested.

  "Hah!" Ida exclaimed. "If he is indeed her cousin. He came to Ashlin a year ago. Shortly before that your brother fell ill for the first time, although he had been the picture of health until then."

  Elf felt a shiver race down her spine, but she shook off the feeling, saying, "I am certain that is just coincidence, Ida. We must not think ill of Isleen because Dickon is ill. I can only judge her on my own experience with her, and to date it has been a good one. She has welcomed me warmly and given me leave to take this little shed for an herbarium so I may help Dickon."