"She poisoned him!" Ida said in venomous tones. "She has killed my baby, and I curse her for it! He called for you to come months ago, but she would not do it until she was certain nothing could save him, the wicked bitch! God curse her! God curse her!"
Hearing her old nurse’s lament, Elf stifled her own grief. Putting her arms about Ida, she said, "You cannot say such things, for you have no proof of it. Like you, I have become suspicious, but there is no real evidence. You can be killed for slandering Isleen. We must keep such doubts to ourselves, Ida. We must! Do you understand me, old woman? You cannot voice your concerns in this matter."
"Is she then to be allowed to escape judgment for the lord’s murder, my sweet lady?" Ida demanded angrily.
"Unless we can show the sheriff proof positive, we cannot accuse Isleen," Elf said quietly. "God knows the truth of this matter, and God will render his judgment and his punishment in his own time, Ida. We must trust in God." She hugged her nursemaid hard.
"For you," Ida said, "and for you alone will I be silent. You are now the lady of Ashlin, and I will obey you. Now, release me, child. We must bathe the lord’s body, and lay him out for his burial."
"Should we tell Isleen?" Elf wondered aloud.
"Not until he is ready and looking his best," Ida said. "I will go and fetch his shroud."
Elf sat by her brother’s side praying. Anyone entering the hall would assume that Richard de Montfort was sleeping. When the old woman returned, they stripped Richard’s body and tenderly bathed it. Elf was horrified at his skeletal look. She carefully kept her eyes averted from his private parts and let Ida attend to them. As he was washed, they wrapped him in his shroud, leaving his head uncovered so his mourners might gaze upon his face a final time. When he was buried it would then be covered over.
Elf looked at her brother’s once handsome face, now peaceful. She touched his cheek, and felt it was cool and waxlike. Tears rolled down her cheeks. What had brought her poor brother to this fate? Was it indeed poison as Ida insisted? It was odd that Dickon had sickened so suddenly when he had been robust all of his life. Bending, she kissed his forehead, then said to Ida, "Send Arthur for a priest. Dickon must be shrived before he is buried. And tell the carpenters to make the lord a fine coffin. My brother will lie in the hall for all his serfs to see and pay their respects."
"The coffin is already made, lady," Ida said. "I shall call for it to be brought in, and the lord laid in it. Arthur will go for the priest. He will have to bring him from the convent, I fear. There is none nearer."
"Very well," Elf said. "I shall tell Isleen now." She turned and made her way to the solar, which was behind the hall. Opening the door, she spied Isleen and Saer by the fireplace in a heated discussion.
Hearing the door creak, Isleen spun about. "What do you want?" she demanded angrily of Elf. Her face was flushed with her ire.
"Your husband is dead," Elf said.
"Oh, my God!" Her eyes went to Saer de Bude. "It is too soon!" she said. "He cannot be dead yet! He cannot!" Now her glance took in her sister-in-law. "Could you not have done something, Eleanore?"
"I am only human, Isleen. I cannot hold back death," Elf said tartly. "You knew Dickon was near his end."
"But now?" Isleen wailed.
"It is God’s will," Elf answered her.
"Oh, cease your pious mouthings at me," Isleen cried, and she stamped her foot. "Now you have what you wanted all along, Ashlin! I hate you! I hate you!" And she burst into tears.
Saer de Bude gathered his cousin into the shelter of his arms. "She does not mean it, Eleanore," he said. "I am certain she doesn't mean it. She is just distraught with Richard’s death."
"I was sent from Ashlin at your behest when I was only five years old," Elf said, unable to control the sudden anger she felt welling up. "Great ladies raise their husband’s siblings, children from earlier marriages, and their bastards, Isleen, but you could not be bothered by one small girl. I was fortunate, however, for I found a real home at St. Frideswide's, and I found a wonderful life. I never aspired to possess Ashlin. If you had given my brother children, we should not have come to this point. I should have probably never seen this place again. Your children would have inherited, and if I were lucky, you might have taken a moment to send me word of my brother’s passing. But you did not do your duty by Dickon. You had no children, so under the law Ashlin is mine, but I never wanted it!"
Isleen looked up from Saer’s shoulders. "I wanted children," she sobbed, "but your brother was not man enough to give them to me."
"Nay, lady, you were not a fertile field. My brother has fathered three children among the serfs since he wed you." Elf heard the words spill unchecked from her mouth, and was unable to stop them.
"What?" Isleen’s tears were suddenly gone.
"My brother has fathered children on other women," Elf said fiercely. She would not allow this woman to slander Dickon’s name, and if that was a sin she would confess it to Father Anselm when she returned to her convent. For now, however, she would defend her brother.
"Liar! Liar!" Isleen screamed. Her face was blotched with her fury. "You are a nasty little liar, and I hate you!"
"I am a nun, Isleen, and I do not lie," Elf said quietly. "The fault for the childlessness in your marriage rests with you, and not with my brother."
"Where are these little bastards?" Isleen demanded furiously. "I will have them slain along with their whoring mothers! Where are they?"
"You will kill no one, Isleen," Elf told her sister-in-law with devastating effect. "You are no longer the lady of Ashlin. I am, and those children, my blood, are under my protection. Attempt to seek them out, and I will have the church on you, lady." Then Elf turned on her heel and departed the solar.
"Oh, my God," Isleen gasped. She sagged against her cousin.
"You are truly a fool, Isleen," Saer said grimly. "You have made an enemy of Eleanore just when we need you to be her friend."
"Did you hear what she said, Saer? Did you hear? I am barren! Richard fathered three children, and none of them mine." She looked at him panic-stricken. "Now you will not want me!" And she burst into fresh tears, clinging desperately to him.
"Do not be absurd, Isleen. Of course I want you. I have always wanted you, and that has not changed. We will follow our plan with but one change. I will force the little nun into marriage, and after she has given me a son, then we shall dispose of her, and you will raise my heir as your own. She might even die in childbirth, but if not, soon thereafter. The boy will never know you are not his real mother. What difference does it make who births him? He will be my son, Isleen… and yours!'
Isleen sniveled. "I hate it that you must couple with her."
"I know, I know," he replied, smoothing her hair in a soothing gesture, "but there is no help for it. If you cannot have a child for me, I must take a wife who can. It is better this way. There will be less suspicion if I marry another, and have a child first. After the little nun has returned to her God, we will be together."