Bertrice Small - The Innocent

Sister Cuthbert nodded. "But it would be an injustice for them to punish the boy for defending his mistress, wouldn't it?"

"We will wait to see if this knight files charges," the abbess said. "If he does, and they come here for the boy, we shall tell them he has sanctuary and speak for him in the courts. Knowing what has happened, it would not be right for us to do otherwise."

Hugh de Warenne looked at his youngest daughter with annoyance and distaste. She was still beautiful, and certainly young enough to make a second marriage. Yet he was extremely irritated at her. "If you had given Richard a child, even a daughter, you would have been a very eligible widow. As it is, I shall have to find some old man, desperate for a child, who will overlook your small dowry."

"She is barren," Saer de Bude told his uncle. "Both Richard de Montfort and I fathered bastards at Ashlin, but your daughter could not conceive by either of us."

"You were at her again, then?" his uncle replied wearily. "Well, if what you have told me is true, then at least we will have no bastards from her. Yes, an old man with gold is just what we shall find for you, Isleen. We shall blame your childlessness on him, and when he dies you will be a wealthy widow, ready for another rich old man’s bed, eh? You'll like that, won't you, you greedy little bitch?" He chuckled, then turned to his nephew. "As for you, Saer de Bude, what am I to do with you? You are my sister’s son, and I feel an obligation toward you, but how can I settle a man with nothing to offer?"

"Richard de Monfort’s sister is Ashlin’s heiress. Arrange a match for me with her, and I shall have my own lands. She’s a pretty creature, and I want her."

"The nun? Are you mad, boy?" his uncle snapped.

"She has not yet taken her final vows, and will not until October, Uncle. I have already had her, Uncle, but in a burst of remorse she fled back to her convent. She was aided by one of her serfs, a lad who was her childhood playmate. I am certain he has dallied with her, too, for she was no real virgin, Uncle. I have filed charges with the local sheriff. The boy will be hanged when he is caught."

"If the girl is loose, why take her, then?" his uncle demanded.

"I forced it from her that he had only used his fingers on her, and not his male member. I ploughed her furrow well, Uncle. She may already be with child. My child. The next rightful heir to Ashlin if I can but wed her. Give me your aid, Uncle."

The baron considered his nephew’s request thoughtfully. He was the youngest of his sister’s brood, and had always been a mercurial fellow. Still, he was a good soldier, but Saer had a weakness for women. Any woman. Baron Hugh had given Richard de Montfort a larger dowry for Isleen than he otherwise might have, for he had caught his daughter and her randy cousin in flagrante delicto, their bodies intertwined, sweating and groaning as they serviced each other. From the look of it, he had known it was not the first time. His wife, when told, had beaten Isleen thoroughly, then taught her daughter how to feign her long-gone virginity. If Richard de Montfort had realized the deception played upon him, he had never complained, for he was madly in love with her. Now Isleen was back like a bad penny, and he discovered that Saer had been at Ashlin for almost a year.

Hugh de Warenne did not want to know the truth. He had his suspicions, for Richard de Montfort had been an exceptionally healthy man until a year ago. These two bad pennies would bring ruin upon them all if he did not separate them for good and all. A young wife, children, the responsibility of a manor would certainly keep Saer’s thoughts from Isleen. As for his daughter, the sooner he could find a husband for her, the better. In the meantime, his wife must handle the problem. Isleen was, after all, in mourning for her husband. Or at least it must appear to be so. The bitch, he thought irritably.

"I'll dispatch two messengers in the morning. The first to the Bishop of Worcester, telling him what you have told me. The second to the king asking that he appoint me the lady Eleanore’s guardian. When I have that authority, I will arrange your marriage, nephew. Will that suit you, Saer?"

"Very much, Uncle," Saer du Bude replied.

In her father’s garden that evening, having escaped her mother’s vigilant eyes, Isleen excoriated her lover. "Why did you not help me when my father said he would find a husband for me? We will never be together, Saer. I do not think you love me at all."

Backing her against a stout oak, Saer de Bude raised Isleen’s skirts and lifted her up to slowly push his member into her. "Do not love you, my pretty? Is this the cock of a man who does not love you?"

"It is the cock of a lustful man," Isleen murmured, putting her arms about him as she locked her legs about his waist.

He smiled into her face. "You are the only woman I have ever loved or will love. Your fathers plan is perfect, Isleen. You will wed a rich man who will expect you to give him a child, which you cannot, but he will not know that. When he begins to become impatient with you, you will slowly poison him as you did Richard. In the meantime I will wed the little nun, and she will give me a son. Then she, too, will die, and lord Saer of Ashlin will marry the wealthy widow, the lady Isleen. With our wealth we will buy more land until we become a great power in the area. It is so perfect, Isleen, and all we need is to be patient, my pretty."

"Why did you tell my father you had had her already?" Isleen demanded. "I thought you said she escaped, thanks to her serf."

"She did, but I knew your father would be reluctant to take any action unless I claimed to have despoiled the girl. I knew if I told him that it was a fait accompli, he would send to the bishop. The bishop, until he can prove the truth of my charges one way or another, will not allow Eleanore de Montfort to take her final vows. My claim alone may be enough to have her exiled from the safety of her convent. But if it is not, certainly the king will rule in my favor based on my testimony. Remember, I have watched her bathe. I can describe in detail the flaws and perfections of her body if I am called upon to do so. Only a lover would know such a thing, my pretty." He thrust against her.

"You have puzzled this all out quite carefully," Isleen said thoughtfully.

"I want Eleanore de Montfort, and I want Ashlin," Saer de Bude said. "And I shall have them!" He thrust again, and yet again.

"Am I a fool to trust you, Saer?" Isleen asked him. He was the most exciting man she had ever known. There was something dangerous about him that thrilled her. "Mmmmmmmm," she murmured as he drove them to a pinnacle. "Ahhhhhhhhh!"

"You must decide that for yourself, my pretty," he taunted her, withdrawing from her body and setting her down again on shaky legs.

"You are the devil himself, I am sure of it," she said low.

Saer de Bude laughed. "Perhaps I am, Isleen. After all, who but the devil would get such supreme pleasure violating a nun?" Then he was gone into the darkness of the garden, leaving Isleen alone.

She shivered. She was only just beginning to realize how treacherous and wicked Saer really was. At this moment she sensed he would betray her as easily as anyone. She did not doubt that he loved her. Of that she was sure, but of late she had noticed a certain evil aura about him that came close to frightening her. If Eleanore de Montfort gave him a son, would he be satisfied? Or would he want other legitimate children of her body? Would he fall out of love with Isleen, and in love with Eleanore? Had her mother not always said a man would love and forgive any woman as long as she gave him children? But that was one thing she could not do, Isleen thought. She must either prevent her father from finding her another husband, or she must kill off her bridegroom as quickly as possible so she could go to Saer and make certain he rid himself of his pious little nun. She would not be cheated of her lover. Not this time!

The Bishop of Worcester received Baron Hugh’s communication, read it with raised brow, and sent a messenger off to St. Frideswide’s Convent posthaste with a letter for the abbess that forbade Eleanore de Montfort to take her final vows until the charges leveled by Baron Hugh and his nephew, Saer de Bude, could be reconciled or disproved.

Reading the bishop’s message, the abbess angrily threw down the parchment scroll. "Hellfire and damnation!" she swore softly, then crossed herself in a gesture of penance. Poor Eleanore! She was only just beginning to recover from the unpleasantness she had encountered. The abbess was no fool, and she knew immediately that it was the manor of Ashlin that was at the center of this devilment. According to Eleanore, her attacker was a landless knight. His attack on the girl had been to ruin her so she would be unfit for the convent. She would have had to wed him, and the manor would have been his. Now he and his uncle were attempting to gain by slander what they had been unable to gain by violence. "They should have their tongues cut out," the abbess muttered.

Calling a novice to her, the abbess sent for Sister Columba. She and Isabeaux St. Simon had been Eleanore’s best friends since they were little girls. Isabeaux, however, had left St. Frideswide’s two weeks ago to return home for her long-planned marriage. Sister Columba would have to do.

The young nun arrived quickly, and bowed to her superior. "Yes, Reverend Mother? How may I serve you?"

"Sit down, my daughter," the abbess said, and then explained the situation.

"Oh, how wicked!" Sister Columba cried. "This will break Elf’s heart, Reverend Mother!"

"That is why I have told you, my daughter. You must help to convince Eleanore that everything that happens, happens for a purpose. I shall speak to her first, but you will remain while I do."

Elf was sent for, and when she came and was told of the charges leveled by Baron Hugh and his nephew, she burst into tears. "But I am a virgin, Reverend Mother! I am! To He about such a thing under the circumstances would place my immortal soul in jeopardy!"

"I believe you, my child," the abbess said, "but the bishop does not know you, and he will want more than just your word to prove your innocence. Sister Winifred will have to examine you. Once that is done, there can be no doubt as to the truth of the matter."

"Examine me? " Elf’s voice quavered. "How? "

"She will insert a finger within your female sheath to determine that your maidenhead is still there intact. It will not hurt, and will take but a minute or so," the abbess said, her face devoid of any emotion.

Elf paled, and Sister Columba gasped.

"We will do it now so you have no time to worry yourself into a swoon awaiting this terrible examination," the abbess said gently. She arose from her seat of office where she had been sitting. "Come," she said. "You, too, Sister Columba. You will hold your friend’s hand to give her courage."

The trio departed the chapter house and walked across the cloister to the infirmary. Entering it, the abbess explained the situation to Sister Winifred, who nodded serenely and instructed Elf to lie upon her examining table. The infirmarian brought a basin of water, and washed her hands carefully. Then looking at Sister Columba, she said, "Draw up her skirts, and you, Eleanore de Montfort, raise your legs and open them, keeping your feet upon the table."

"I am afraid," Elf said.

"There is nothing to fear," Sister Winifred said briskly. "Mind carefully what I do, child, for one day you are going to take my place, and may need to conduct just such an examination. Now then, let us begin." The nun dipped her finger in a pot of heavy oil, and gently began to insert it into the girl’s body.

With a little cry, Elf fainted.

" 'Tis better this way," Sister Winifred said. "She is more relaxed now." Her brow furrowed in concentration, then she withdrew her finger, washing her hands again. "Pull down her skirts, Sister Columba, and burn a feather beneath her nose to revive her." The infirmarian turned to the abbess. "She is a virgin without any doubt, Reverend Mother. My finger is the first thing to ever penetrate the child. Her maidenhead is intact and most tightly lodged. She has not been tampered with in any way. Her accusers lie. I swear it on the body of our dear Lord himself."