To The Castle

Nell looked at the roast venison that was reposing upon her trencher of fine white bread and felt her stomach heave. She was far too upset to eat. Her mouth felt dry so she took a small sip of wine. She looked enviously at the lesser folk sitting at the trestle tables who were being served ale.

“Eat something,” her aunt Alida said. “The food is good at Bardney. You should enjoy it.”

Aunt Alida looked as if she enjoyed the food. She was a small plump woman who reminded Nell of a pigeon. Alida had been one of too many girls and her family hadn’t known what to do with her until Alice had said she could come and live with her.

It was not always easy these days for a noble family to find a suitable match for a daughter. Because of the Norman custom that decreed that all of a family’s holdings be passed down to the eldest son, it was only the eldest son in a family who was eligible to marry. Penniless younger sons usually remained bachelors. This left a limited number of potential husbands for the daughters of the nobility, and competition was fierce. There had been several girls in Nell’s convent whose families had not been able to give them a good enough dowry to purchase a husband.

Alida had been fortunate to have a sister who had married well enough to be able to offer her a home. Nell had only a dim memory of Alida from the time that she had lived at home, but her aunt’s smile was friendly and she smiled back.

“I’m just not very hungry, I’m afraid,” she said. “Too much has happened in the last few days. My stomach’s all in a whirl.”

Her mother turned to her. “Aren’t you eating, Nell?”

Nell took a bite of venison and forced it down. “I’m eating, Mama.”

Alice spoke to her sister across Nell. “Do you really think we can alter Sybilla’s clothes to fit Nell? It isn’t just the length that will have to come up; they will have to be taken in all over.”

“We can do it,” Alida replied. “We’ll get started on it right away.”

“We’ll have to,” Alice said. “She has to have something to wear besides this black robe.”

Alida patted Nell on the arm. “Don’t you worry. You’re a pretty girl and we’ll soon have you fitted out properly.”

I hope not, Nell thought. She turned to her mother. “Mama,” she said, “don’t forget to talk to my father about my going back to St. Cecelia’s.”

Alice looked exasperated. “I told you I would talk to him and I will—in good time.”

“Talk about what?” Alida asked her sister with all the confidence of a close companion.

“Nell wants to go back to the convent to say goodbye to the sisters,” Alice said.

Alida nodded approvingly. “And so she should. It is the mannerly thing to do.”

Nell gave her aunt a tremulous smile of gratitude.

Nell waited all through dinner for her mother to have a chance to talk to her father, but he was deep in conversation with Martin Demas and didn’t look at his wife. Finally, when the main dishes had been removed and the sweet was being served, he turned to the three women who sat to his right.

“Did you enjoy your food, Nell?” he asked.

“Yes, Father, I did,” Nell lied.

“Good. I imagine you did not dine like this in the convent.”

“No, Father.”

“My lord,” Alice began, “Nell wishes to return to the convent so she may say goodbye to the nuns. I think it would be the mannerly thing for her to do—after all, she resided there for nine years.”

He frowned and Nell held her breath.

“I don’t think it’s necessary,” he said.

“Not necessary, but mannerly,” Lady Alice said.

His frown smoothed out. “Oh, all right. I suppose I can spare a few knights to take her.” He spoke briefly with Martin Demas, then turned back to Nell. “All right,” he said, returning his gaze to the women. “You might as well go tomorrow and get it over with. I can send five men with you.”

“Surely I don’t need five men, Father,” Nell said.

“Yes, you do,” he returned. “The country is teetering on the brink of civil war and lawless men are taking advantage of the unsettled state of affairs.” He looked at her grimly. “You are all I have left to me, Nell. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

For the briefest of moments pain flashed in her father’s dark blue eyes, then it was gone. Nell felt a stab of guilt that she was working to circumvent him.

After dinner was over, the servants began the work of taking up the trestle tables and storing them against one wall of the Great Hall. They left a few benches in front of the fire and a number of knights gravitated to them and sat down. Someone took out a pair of dice. The earl went to join his men by the fire and Alice said to her sister, “Let us go upstairs to the solar. I have no heart for company tonight.”

Nell followed her mother and her aunt up the stairs to the living room used solely by the family, her mind forming thoughts of what she would say to Mother Superior when she saw her on the morrow. Surely Mother Superior would be on her side. She had always liked Nell. She prayed she would tell her father that it was God’s will that Nell remain in the convent.

It was late in the afternoon when Nell and her retinue arrived at the gatehouse of the Convent of St. Cecelia. The portress greeted Nell, then summoned grooms to take the horses.

The stones of the convent buildings looked so familiar to Nell, so comforting. There was the church, where the nuns heard mass from behind a beautifully carved screen; there was Mother Superior’s house; there was the main residence where Nell had lived along with the nuns and the rest of the novices; and there was the guesthouse, where the Bardney knights would spend the night. Unseen from the courtyard was the herb garden, where Nell had spent so many happy hours learning from the convent’s healer, Sister Helen.

Sister Helen had been like a mother to her. How could she bear to leave her?

Nell pointed out the guesthouse to the knights and told them to make themselves comfortable. Then she crossed the courtyard in the direction of Mother Superior’s tall, narrow, stone house. Her heart was thudding.

A lay sister answered Nell’s knock. Nell asked a little breathlessly, “Will you be so kind as to tell Mother that I wish to see her?”

“Of course,” the lay sister replied and disappeared up the stairs. She returned a few minutes later and told Nell that Mother Superior would receive her in her sitting room. By now Nell’s heart was hammering and she drew a deep breath to steady herself before she went up the stairs.

St. Cecelia’s was a well-endowed convent and the Mother Superior could have afforded a decent degree of luxury, but Mother Margaret de Ligne made do with only the bare essentials: several carved wooden chairs, two chests and a wall hanging depicting St. George on a white horse. The stone floor was bare of rushes.

Mother Margaret herself was almost as austere-looking as the room she sat in, but her face softened as Nell came in. “So,” she said. “You have returned from burying your sister.”

“Yes, Mother. And something has happened that I must discuss with you.”

“Come and sit down,” Mother Margaret said. “How are your mother and your father? Such a terrible thing for them, to lose your sister at so young an age. I am praying for them.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Nell replied.

“I see you are not wearing your wimple.”

Nell clutched her hands tightly together in her lap. “My mother made me take it off. Mother, something terrible has happened. My father has said that I can’t remain at the convent, that I must stay at home and take Sybilla’s place!”

There was a little silence, then Mother Margaret said softly, “I thought this might happen.”

Nell stared at her in shocked surprise.

Mother Margaret went on. “Your father is a very important man, Nell. He owns extensive lands, castles and manors. He has lost a son and a daughter and he needs an heir to carry on the family’s holdings and its bloodline. So I am not surprised that he wants you to come home.”

Nell found her voice. “But I was dedicated to God, Mother! Surely I ought not turn my back upon Him!”