"Isa is one of Elf’s two best friends," Richard answered. "You must tell my sister that you know her. I took Elf to the convent shortly after her fifth birthday. Our father had died, and then our mother. I had contracted a marriage with the de Warennes, and they did not think it fair that Isleen should have to raise my sister. It was they who suggested St. Frideswide's. Knowing my sister’s dower was a small one, they also suggested that she become a nun when she was old enough. It was a good decision. Elf has been safe in these troubled times. Her gentle disposition is perfect for the life she will lead. I should fear for her otherwise after I am gone." He coughed, his face paler than usual.
"Perhaps now she is to inherit your manor," Ranulf de Glandeville said, "she might decide she prefers to marry."
Richard shook his head. "I think it more likely she will give Ashlin to her order. They will do with it what is best for them. Marriage is not for Elf. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall sleep. I am very weary despite the fact all I do is lie here day after day."
Ranulf de Glandeville sought his own bed space, nodding to the young serf who had come to sit by his master. To the knight’s surprise there was a small stool by the bed space with a basin of warm water. He washed the grease of his supper from his hands and face gratefully, drying them on the small linen cloth with the ewer. What a shame his young hostess had chosen the church over marriage. She would make a fine chatelaine of any man’s manor. Pulling off his dalmatica, he laid it aside, and unlaced his corselet, a tight-fitting leather jupe, and set it out of the way, too. Then he removed his boots. He would sleep in the rest of his clothing. He needed to pee, and so walking across the hall, he let himself outside to complete the task, then returned inside, carefully barring the door again.
A serf awoke him shortly after dawn. There was hot oat stirabout, fresh bread, cheese, butter, and brown ale to break his fast. Having eaten his fill, he went to Richard de Montfort’s side, where Elf was even now copying out a second parchment of her brother’s will. She looked up at his approach, the expression on her young face serious. He sat silently by the lord’s side. Richard’s eyes were closed, his breathing labored. Ranulf de Glandeville crossed himself, and folded his big hands in prayer. They were hands more used to battle than supplication, and his hazel eyes could not help but stray to the earnestly bent head of the girl as she wrote.
"There, only one more to copy," she finally said. "It is not a long document, sir. I will try not to keep you. You must be eager to be on your way as your business is for the king." Then she bent her head again over her task.
He picked up one of the parchments. It had been dictated in a straightforward manner. Richard de Montfort, right lord of the manor of Ashlin, being childless after nine years of marriage to his lawful wife, Isleen de Warenne, leaves said manor with its lands, its serfs, its buildings, its livestock, and all of his possessions to his only heir, his sister, Eleanore de Montfort. The will went on to note that Isleen’s dowry portion should be returned immediately to her family. Here Ranulf de Glandeville raised an interested eyebrow. The de Warennes had been most generous, perhaps a bit overgenerous. They had obviously been quite eager to rid themselves of this daughter. Curious, he could not help but wonder why. The lady was quite beautiful and from an excellent family. The will went on to commend Richard de Montfort’s wishes to His Majesty, King Stephen, and to his lordship, the Bishop of Worcester. The bishop was awarded six ewe lambs and a young ram for his trouble.
"I have finished, sir," Elf’s voice broke into his thoughts.
The knight looked up to see Richard de Montfort signing each document, and sealing them with his seal both by his signature and on the rolled-up document’s exterior. The lord of Ashlin had to be braced by a servant so he might sit up enough to scrawl his signature and press his seal into the hot wax. Before he did so, however, Ranulf de Glandeville signed each will in witness.
"What is it you are doing?" Isleen had entered the hall, Saer at her side.
They were a beautiful couple, Ranulf thought, fascinated by their appearance.
"I have dictated my will to Elf," Richard said softly. "Ranulf de Glandeville has witnessed it, Elf has made copies, and now our good guest will deliver a copy each to the bishop in Worcester, and the king, so my wishes will be carried out with expedience. Elf will inherit Ashlin as she is my heir."
"Of course she will," Isleen said, and her voice was almost angry. "I know that, but what a little nun will do with a manor is beyond me. Will she use these lands to found a new convent, perhaps?"
"I am not allowed to own any personal possessions once I have taken my final vows," Elf said, speaking up. "When I return to St. Frideswide's, I shall sign my rights in Ashlin over to my order. Ashlin will belong to the sisters of St. Mary, Isleen."
For the tiniest moment, so brief that Ranulf de Glandeville wasn't even certain, an ugly look touched Isleen’s face, but then it was gone as swiftly as it had come. Why, she hates her sister-in-law, the knight thought. Well, the woman was human. Her childless condition was costing her a comfortable living, and her very home. She would get over it, but who could blame her in the meantime? He took the two rolled documents Elf handed him and arose.
"I will see these are delivered properly," he told Richard de Montfort, "and I will pray for your soul, my lord." He bowed.
"Thank you" was Richard’s simple reply.
"Your cloak, my lord," Ida said, handing the garment to him.
"Why, it looks like new!" he exclaimed, surprised.
"Nothing a good brushing couldn't accomplish, my lord," the old lady said sharply. "That is why God made women. Men need taking care of, it is obvious. Godspeed, lord."
He put the garment about his broad shoulders, and then made his farewells, saving his last good-bye for Elf. "I shall not forget your hospitality, lady," he told her softly. "Your kindness lifted the weariness from my shoulders last night, and I am grateful. I have a long way to go yet. Thank you."
"May you go with God, then, Sir Ranulf," Elf told him. "I shall remember you in my prayers."
He bowed to her, then turned and left the hall.
Chapter 3
“Will you remember me in your prayers also, lady?" Saer de VV Bude queried when the king’s messenger was out of hearing.
"I remember all here in my prayers, sir," Elf said, and then added more tartly, "I expect you need praying for more than that good knight, sir." She turned to Ida. "We will need fresh linen for my brother’s cot. I will go and fetch it if you and Isleen will bathe Dickon, please." Without waiting for an answer she hurried off to the linen cupboard, where she drew forth clean bedding for her brother’s comfort. The cupboard smelled of lavender and damask roses. Hearing a footstep behind her, Elf turned about and found herself face-to-face with Saer de Bude.
"You are even more beautiful than my cousin, Isleen," he began.
"Your words and your obvious thoughts are inappropriate, sir," Elf said. She was irritated by this man’s proximity, but her voice did not quaver, nor did she shrink from him.
The deep blue eyes fixed her fiercely. "I find you ultimately desirable, Eleanore de Montfort, and as you have not taken your final vows as a nun yet, I feel I may tell you so." He moved closer, pressing her back into the cupboard.
"In my mind and in my heart, sir, I am a nun. I do not welcome your attentions. I find them distasteful, extremely offensive. Now, step aside so I may pass! These linens are needed in the hall."