"Thank you," the abbess said. "I had no doubts myself, but the bishop would want more than just the girl’s word. He cannot doubt the veracity of this convent’s infirmarian, however."

Elf had been revived and helped off the examining table by her friend. "What will happen now?" she asked.

"I will send a letter to the bishop attesting to our findings, but until he gives you his permission, you cannot take your final vows," the abbess said. "I will also send the testimony of Arthur in your behalf, explaining he is in sanctuary here because of the incident, and he will swear on his soul that Saer de Bude, while attempting to rape you, did not succeed. It will be enough. Perhaps by Martinmas you will be able to take your final vows, my child."

"I must be content with that, then," Elf replied.

Several weeks later the bishop sent a message to the abbess of St. Frideswide’s Convent. The testimony of Sister Winifred, and the sworn denial of Eleanore de Montfort that no sexual encounter had taken place, were now enough to satisfy him. However, he had been instructed by the king to command Eleanore de Montfort and the abbess of St. Frideswide’s to come to Worcester on St. Andrew’s Day. The king would be visiting the bishop, and wished to decide the matter of Eleanore de Montfort himself.

For the first time in her life, Elf seriously lost her temper. "Is there no end to this man’s perfidy? Does he think the king can force me into marriage with him? I would rather die before I would wed any man! It is impossible! I hope he will grow a wart on the very end of his nose that will spoil his handsome face!"

The abbess bit her lip to restrain her laughter. "My child," she said, "you must not wish evil on any man, especially Saer de Bude. It is obvious God created him without any sense, and surely that is enough of a burden for the man." She patted Elf’s hand. "We shall go to Worcester on St. Andrew’s Day, and straighten this matter out. You can ask the king to pardon Arthur so he may go home to Ashlin."

Elf nodded. "I am ashamed at my outburst."

"My daughter," the abbess said, "you seek to become a nun, but you are a human being. Mayhap someday you can aspire to sainthood, but the majority of us are just simple women. We are subject to the same human frailties as are any women. It is not wrong to experience righteous anger, Eleanore. Just do not hold a grudge. I worry that you strive too hard for mortal perfection, when it is the perfection of your immortal soul that is more important."


***

They departed St. Frideswide’s several days before the thirtieth of November, for it would take them a few days to reach the town of Worcester. They were a party of four nuns and half a dozen men-at-arms, although it was unlikely anyone would attack such a religious group. The abbess had asked Sister Winifred, the convent’s infirmarian, to accompany them because she felt her personal testimony, if necessary, would be valuable. She had also asked young Sister Columba, Elf’s best friend. The two girls would keep each other amused on the long ride. Sister Winifred, being elderly, could not ride, and was transported in a small cart that slowed them down. The usual three-day journey took them four.

The skies were slate gray, the countryside bleak in the late autumn. Here and there sheep and cattle browsed in the gray green meadows. They stopped the first night at the manor of a baron who was related to the abbess. The next two nights were spent in convent guest quarters, and finally late on the fourth day they arrived in the town of Worcester, lodging in the cathedral guest house, which was empty but for them. The king’s standard flew from the bishop’s castle. They sent word that they had arrived.

The king was eating with the bishop and their retainers in the great hall when the message arrived. "So the abbess has come with her chick," he noted. He was a sad-faced man with sandy hair and a beard with flecks of silver. His mild blue eyes were thoughtful. "Now, we must resolve the matter for once and for all."

"Do you know what you will do, my lord?" his friend, Geoffrey de Bohun, asked him.

"It is an unpleasant situation," the king replied. "Hugh de Warenne wants guardianship over the girl. His youngest daughter was the late lord’s wife, and the girl, the lord’s sister. If I give him that guardianship, he will undoubtedly take the girl from her convent and marry her to his nephew, Saer de Bude, in order to keep the manor in his family. De Bude claims to have had relations with the girl, but she says he lies, and the infirmarian at the convent has sworn the girl tells the truth and is a virgin."

"Has Baron Hugh supported you, my lord? Is he deserving of such a reward?" Geoffrey de Bohun inquired.

"Baron Hugh has done what is expedient for himself in the years of my reign. He has supported me when it was to his advantage; and he has supported my cousin, the Empress Matilda, when it was advisable to do so," the king said with a wry smile. It was rare he smiled these days, for he had recently lost his wife. The queen had been the stronger of the pair, and he very much missed her wise counsel. He tried to imagine what his wife would do in such a situation as he now faced.

"Was Richard de Montfort your man?" de Bohun wanted to know.

Now the bishop spoke up. "Richard de Montfort obeyed the laws of this land, and gave loyalty to its king."

"But did I not hear that his father was the empress’s man, and died in her cause? How important is this manor to you, my lord?"

"It is true Lord Richard’s father fought for Matilda, but so did many here at one time or another. Richard de Montfort was yet a child when his father perished, and his sister still a babe at her mother’s breast. He never took sides, but obeyed the law and gave fealty to this land’s ruler. His sister has been in her convent since she was five years of age. I doubt Eleanore de Montfort has any worldly opinions, and certainly not political ones," the bishop defended the de Montforts heatedly. This whole situation was vexing, but he understood. Land was a man’s first base of power, and the de Warennes and their nephew knew it.

"Tell me, my lord bishop, about this manor of Ashlin," the king said quietly. He wanted to make a fair decision.

"It sits near Wales, my lord. It is small, and supports itself, but it is not a rich holding by any means. There is not much else to recommend it. Saer de Bude is landless, and the only way he can obtain Ashlin, for he has not the coin to purchase it, is to marry its heiress."

"The girl has not yet taken her final vows?" the king asked.

"Nay, my lord. She was to have done so in June, but was at Ashlin caring for her dying brother. The date was reset for the feast of St. Frideswide’s on October nineteenth, but then there was this claim from the de Warennes and their nephew that he had had carnal relations with Eleanore de Montfort. The lady denied it, and the infirmarian of the convent confirms that Eleanore de Montfort is a virgin. I would have given permission for the girl to take her final vows, but that Baron Hugh complained to you, and you requested to see the girl before you made a decision. Have you made one, my lord? "

"I believe I have," the king said, "but I shall reserve it for the hearing. Have all the parties involved in this matter brought before me after Mass in the morning."

The bishop turned to the messenger who wore his badge of service. "Go to the guest house, and tell the abbess that she and the lady Eleanore are to join us after the Mass in the great hall tomorrow morning."

The messenger bowed, and hurried out.


***

The three nuns and their novice entered the great hall, and were announced by the bishop’s steward. They came forward, gliding like a trio of black swans with one gray cygnet across the stone floor. The abbess made her obeisance first to King Stephen, and then kissed their bishop’s ring. Her companions followed suit. The king looked at Eleanore de Montfort, and thought her a beautiful young girl with her heart-shaped face framed neatly by her white wimple, and her large gray eyes with their hint of blue that looked swiftly at him, then lowered modestly. He could not help but smile at the girl. No wonder young de Bude coveted her.

Baron Hugh de Warenne and his nephew, Saer de Bude, were now called into the hall, and they came, the younger man swaggering, sure of his certain victory. His uncle had drunk many cups of wine the previous night with the king’s friend, Geoffrey de Bohun, and put certain thoughts into his head, which de Bohun had passed on to the king. Having heard them, and considered well, the king could not help but give Eleanore de Montfort to the de Warennes, which meant she would be his wife very shortly. With his uncle he bowed before Stephen, and then his eyes touched on his fair prize. She glared at him so fiercely he almost laughed. No. She was not meant for a convent. Such passion should be reserved for him, and not some invisible God.

The king spoke. "Baron Hugh, your nephew claims intimate knowledge of the novice, Eleanore de Montfort. She denies any such congress between them. She has been examined by the infirmarian of her convent, who insists the girl is untouched and as pure as the day she was born. Has your nephew lied in this matter?"

"He but confessed it to me this morning, my lord," Hugh de Warenne said contritely. "When I demanded an explanation for his slander, he claimed it was because he loved the lady Eleanore, and could think of no other way to obtain her. He is young, my lord, and impetuous. I beg you forgive him."

"Forgiveness is not my province, Baron, it is the lady's," the king said quietly. He turned to Elf. "Do you forgive him, lady?"

"For his slander of me, my lord, or the lie that he has told his uncle to excuse his slander?" Elf said sweetly.

"You do not believe he loves you, lady?" The king’s lips twitched.

"How could he love me, my lord, and behave as he did toward me? How could he love me when he did not know me? I am not such a fool that I do not realize the attraction I hold. It is my manor at Ashlin, of course! This man is landless, and hopes to gain stature through me, but he most certainly does not love me, and I absolutely do not love him! I can say it no more plainly. I belong to God."

"Your manor, lady," the king began, "is in a vulnerable spot. I need a man on that land who is totally loyal to me, to my son, and to our cause. I need a man the people of Ashlin will cleave to and obey. In order to attain such a goal, you must also be on your land. I have discussed this matter thoroughly with the bishop, and we are of one mind. You will not take your final vows, Eleanore de Montfort. You must marry."

"No!" Elf gasped, looking desperately to the abbess. She could hear Matti, now Sister Columba, beginning to weep behind her.

"Now, my child, the only question is, who is to be your husband?" the king continued smoothly, ignoring her small outburst. "You are certain you will not have Saer de Bude for your husband?"

"Never!" Elf hissed. "The man is an adulterer who lay with my brother’s wife! I would not have him if he were the last man on earth, my lord, but I beg you, do not force me to the marriage altar. I will give you Ashlin if you desire it, but let me continue on with my life as I have always planned it. In my heart and mind I am a nun."

"Then, if you will not have this man who covets you, lady, I must choose a husband for you," the king said firmly. "Anticipating this, I have already made my choice. You will wed one of my own knights: a man raised in my Uncle Henry’s court, a man who has served us with loyalty and devotion for many years. He, like Saer de Bude, is landless. It is time I rewarded him for his many years of service. He is a good man, Eleanore de Montfort. A godly man who will treat you with respect. You and your people will be safe in his hands, as will your manor of Ashlin," Stephen said calmly ignoring her desperate plea. "Come forward, Sir Ranulf de Glandeville, and greet your bride."

The abbess moved to Elf’s side, and gently removed her wimple revealing her hair, unpinning her single thick braid. The girl turned frightened eyes to her. "Please, Reverend Mother," she whispered. When the abbess did not answer, too stricken herself with emotion, Elf turned to the king again. "Why are you doing this to me, my lord? Why?"