Alys brightened a bit. "I do not know the cause of their disagreement, but it must have been a petty thing. Sayer is a sweet lad."
Eleanor hesitated, feeling her fatigue. Her usual quickness of mind was another casualty of her illness, and the moment to pursue any more questions under the guise of innocence passed. Taking a deep breath of regret, she continued. "You have been quite brave in this matter. Were you out walking with your mother and affianced.
The girl covered her face and moaned with renewed anguish.
Anne and Eleanor stared at each other. What had Eleanor said to expose even greater grief? Had Brother Thomas failed to tell them something?
"Please forgive me," the prioress begged, clasping the girl to her for comforting.
After a few minutes, Alys calmed. "You said nothing amiss, Sister. I sorrow most for my uncle's death and hope God will have mercy on his blemished soul. I pray as well that my mother, whose husband died most recently, may find ease. Yet I have a secret grief as well."
Anne stepped away so they could speak privately.
"I will keep your tale in confidence," Eleanor said.
"My mother wants me to marry a man I hate!" she burst out. "I confess that my feelings may do him some injustice. Were my heart not joined with that of another, I might feel…" Giving up the struggle to find a word, she went on. "I can view no other man with joy. If I did not say so, I would not be truthful."
Eleanor liked the young woman for that. Her blunt speech reminded the prioress of Gytha, her maid at Tyndal and a woman not much different in age. "Will you join us?" She gestured toward the gardens where she knew she could sit.
Alys agreed, her face slowly regaining its natural rosy color.
The trio set off along a path, the stones worn deep by the rough elements and soft shoes of many nuns over even more centuries. With silent discretion, Anne dropped back to examine a yellow-flowered Planta Genista, the Broom plant doubtless placed in the garden to honor the current king's grandfather who had rededicated the priory to the Order of Fontevraud.
Eleanor drew Alys into a corner of the garden, bounded by a trinity of ancient yews. "A woman has the legal right to refuse a husband, for cert, but our parents often see things with more wisdom than we do," she said. "Do not misunderstand. I have not chosen to ignore your grief, but you seem a sensible woman. I would hear why you have concluded that your heart is wiser than your mother."
"I long to do as commanded, Sister, but I fear I am much confused. I do not understand why my parents decided Master Herbert must be the only choice. He is older, although not without favor, and dresses well, which speaks of wealth. I can see the merit in that. My father, before he died, had apparently found in him a proper match for me."
Eleanor laid a sympathetic hand on Alys' arm.
Gaining solace from the supportive touch, the young woman continued. "My Bernard is the son of a glover in the village, one who had an established business when he died last year…"
"… a man closer to your age who has not yet acquired much or any wealth?" The failure to add the word profitable had not escaped Eleanor's notice.
"But one who will in due course! Of that I am confident. If my parents had found him so unacceptable as a husband, why was he never discouraged, even barred from coming to court me? Surely our blushes must have spoken the truth of our desire to marry. We did nothing to hide our feelings. We had no cause. Yet, after my father's death, my mother became obsessed with this vintner and now claims Bernard is unsuitable!"
"Did your father never speak of this arrangement to you?"
"No."
The prioress noted with curiosity that the girl's eyes remained quite dry when she spoke of this recently deceased father. "Was his death sudden?" she asked softly. "Perhaps he did not have time…"
Alys turned away from Eleanor. "He and I spoke together as little as possible. What he wished to convey to me, he usually did through my mother. You need not waste comforting words on me, Sister. Although I sought to obey the man's will, as one must a sire, I bore no love for him. For that I shall gladly serve my time in Purgatory, but I cannot feel repentant." She pressed tight fists into her thighs, before continuing in a hoarse whisper: "He beat my mother when he drank more than he ought and mounted her with as little tenderness as if she were a common whore rather than his wife. My first memory of them both was this."
The cruelty in the tale hit Eleanor's heart with brutal force. She closed her eyes but could not stop herself from exclaiming, "You poor child!"
When Alys turned back to face the nun, all adult defiance had faded from her voice, replaced with a child's confusion. "When my father died, I thought my mother would see Bernard's fine qualities and how kind he is to me. My mother is a loving woman, Sister! After she had suffered so, I was sure she would wish just such a sweet man as husband for her daughter, but I was mistaken. She holds to Master Herbert as if her very soul depended on our marriage. Had I not known otherwise, I would now think my mother, not my dead father, had chosen him for me."
The deep exhaustion, which Eleanor had tried firmly to will away, now returned with unavoidable force. Quickly, she gestured toward the stone seats. When they sat, Eleanor hid the trembling of her body by bracing herself on the stone and bending toward Alys as if encouraging the confidential talk. "What lack do you see in the man your mother is so set on?"
"Oh, he has enough of his teeth left," Alys said, her anger glowing in the bright spots on her cheeks, "and his breath does not reek of the grave!" She wilted into the seat with utter defeat. "I cannot explain my objections. When I am with him, he makes sure my mother is in attendance. He has never tried to dishonor me, yet he whispers things in my ears that I do not care for. When I protest, he claims I have misunderstood, and his reasons are well expressed. I often conclude I am misjudging him." Her lips twisted as if she had just tasted something foul. "Nonetheless, I draw back from him and cannot bear even the touch of his robe. I am unable to explain further, Sister. Truly I cannot!"
"What sort of things does he say?"
Alys flushed, her face now completely scarlet. "He has suggested that Bernard and I have already bedded."
"Have you?" Eleanor asked gently.
The young woman turned her head away as if she were confessing her sins. "I have fondled him most lovingly, and Bernard has kissed me in such a way that I have almost swooned. Yet, on my faith, I am still a virgin." She glanced at the nun beside her as if to gauge her reaction.
Eleanor compared one sweet summer eve at Wynethorpe Castle, before she took final vows, with her lustful dreams at Tyndal and knew just how innocent these two young people were of mortal sin. She nodded.
With pleased surprise, Alys smiled.
"Was the vintner married before?"
"Aye, for some years, but his wife drowned. Master Herbert has always claimed she slipped. Others say she committed self-murder, for she was in much pain from a running sore in her womb that refused to heal. The crowner believed she had willfully drowned and so her soul was cursed and her body laid in an unsanctified grave."
This would be Mistress Eda, Eleanor thought. The other ghost. Yet she could see no way to turn her questions to restless spirits when this girl needed a compassionate ear. "Might the vintner be unaccustomed to wooing after years of marriage? Could he have meant well and intended only to show that he understands the passions of youth?"
Alys shrugged. "As I have said, I cannot explain why his words trouble me. When he murmurs in my ear that he is capable of riding me until I scream with joy, I should conclude that he means to convey how skilled a lover he will be. Yet I hear only that I will scream. In that prospect, I find neither comfort nor joy."