“And I still am,” Rowena said absently, her thoughts focused on some mint plants. It seemed nothing could kill mint. Why was that, she wondered. What made a plant like mint so vigorous, while other plants and animals can be so vulnerable to disease? To injury?
Church bells began clanging from St. Martha’s Nunnery. The bells called the abbey nuns to the morning’s third prayer service. “I love the sound of the bells,” Rowena said, as their song echoed in waves off the rolling hills of Jarrow, in Northumberland. “We’d better get going, or we’ll be late for service. We still need to clean up a bit!”
As Sister Prudence and the novitiate Rowena scrambled up the hillside to the abbey, Rowena said, “It’s funny, I hardly remember much about my life before my mother died.”
Sister Prudence said, “Yer life was nae doubt the envy of any little English lass.”
Rowena said, “I remember the day my father told me I was coming here.” He had taken Rowena by the hand and led her out for a walk in the garden at his estate at Middle Kirk Manor. He said he had decided to send her to St. Martha’s Nunnery, in Northumberland.
Rowena remembered what her father had told her that day in the garden years ago. She had to learn the manners expected of a noblewoman of rank and refinement. How to weave, to spin, to manage servants, to tend to the sick and injured. He had said, “All of these are skills expected of an English lady of your stature. Some day you will be a wife. A mother. Remember, God is always there for both of us.”
Rowena had clung to his words through the years.
To Rowena, Mother Lenora and the abbey sisters looked old and frightening. But when Rowena met Sister Prudence, she brightened up. Sister Prudence had a sweetness about her that was rather grandmotherly and sisterly at the same time. Something about the way her green eyes twinkled when she smiled and the faint brogue in her speech endeared her to Rowena. Sister Prudence made Rowena feel like she could tell her any secret and she would never tell a soul.
When they arrived at the abbey kitchen, Rowena gently dropped the big sack of vegetables on the floor. It was heavy, but her years of living at the priory had made her strong and sinewy.
She found bread dough covered with a cloth. A bowl of cherries sat next to it.
Sister Prudence followed Rowena into the kitchen. She said, “Me dear child, thank ye! Some of these will go into the potage right after prayers, and just in time for our hungry visitors.”
Sister Prudence then plucked a ripe, red cherry from a bowl on the table. She put a finger to her lips and said, “Shhh.” With mischievous eyes, the nun placed the cherry in Rowena’s hand. Rowena grinned at the treat and gave Sister Prudence a warm hug and peck on the cheek.
“Your secret’s safe with me, Sister!” Rowena said, popping the cherry into her mouth.
The nun said, “Me dear, it has been such a pleasure havin’ ye with us these last seven years. It’s hard to believe ye will finish yer tutelage here next year. Have ye decided yet what ye plan to dae?”
“I think so, Sister. May I confide in you? I’d like your advice about something,” Rowena said. From the moment Rowena arrived at St. Martha’s, the nuns had taken her in as one of their own. They adored the little girl. They taught her good manners, how to weave, and how to speak French. Rowena was not the only girl the nuns had ever schooled. Mother Lenora saw that Rowena was especially interested in the healing arts and had worked to teach her all she could. But Rowena and Sister Prudence had a special closeness between them.
“Of course, me dear. Let’s talk on our way to chapel or we’ll be late!” Sister Prudence handed Rowena a damp cloth. They wiped the garden dirt and debris off their hands. Rowena offered an arm to Sister Prudence as they walked to the chapel.
As they walked arm in arm, Rowena said, “You know, I’ve been thinking of becoming a nun but I’ve had some doubts. Yesterday at morning prayers, I thought I heard God’s calling. I believe He wants me to follow the path and take the vows to become a novice. Yet, I still have some reservations about it. I cannot explain why. It is nagging me. If you can tell me, Sister, I need to know. Did you have doubts when you decided to follow the path?”
Sister Prudence smiled. “Aye, Rowena. I had me doubts at first. But once I took me vows, me doubts disappeared. Lookin’ back I ken it was the best decision I ever made. However, the fact that it was right for me does nae mean it is right for ye. Tis’ a deeply personal decision. Tis’ good that ye are mullin’ it over carefully. Have ye talked it over with yer faither?”
Rowena said, “Some. He knows I’m thinking about it. I haven’t yet told him that I’m close to a decision. I plan to tell him when he next visits me.” I hope he will be happy about it, she thought.
Sister Prudence squeezed Rowena’s arm. “He will want to ken that.”
“I only hope I make the right choice,” Rowena said, a bit of doubt still sounding in her voice.
“Trust in yer heart, child. God speaks to us in the still small voice that we hear in our hearts. He will not steer ye wrong,” Sister Prudence said.
Rowena bit her lip. “Yes, I believe I have heard that voice. But please, Sister, promise me you will keep it secret for now. I must tell my father when he is here next before I tell anyone else.”
Sister Prudence gave her another hug. “Of course I will, dear! I ken ye will make the right choice.”
Rowena said, “Thank you, and thank you so for your years of friendship, Sister. I am eternally grateful to God for sending me here. I have learned so much, and I love you all!”
Near the chapel door, Rowena waited in line behind Sister Prudence and the other nuns to dip her hands in the holy water. As she waited her turn, she quickly re-pinned her long hair. She caught a glimpse of herself in a reflection off a piece in a stained-glass window. In her old life, people would often tell her she had inherited her mother’s beauty. As an adolescent, Rowena had enjoyed hearing those compliments, but now Rowena no longer cared about such things. Besides, she didn’t feel especially attractive with her cheeks rosy and dewy with sweat from working in the garden.
In fact, even in her untidy state Rowena was stunning. Her blue eyes were round and set wide in her feminine, oval-shaped face. Her features were beautifully symmetrical. Her jawline was well-defined without being prominent. When she smiled, she lit up the room. It was hard for anyone to take their eyes off of her. Yet her life in the abbey made her totally unaware of her beauty.
2
Lord Kensley leaned on a cane by the tall windows in his receiving room in Middle Kirk Manor. He had gotten a foot hung up in a stirrup during a dangerous fall from his horse a few days earlier. He ignored the pain as he watched the entourage from Strongbow ride up the lane into the courtyard. In the lead was the arrogant David Fulton, Earl of Strongbow.
Earl Strongbow owned property in Surrey, just south of London. He had been knighted by the king for his service in battle several years back, although the factual accounts were surrounded by controversy. Strongbow, through shrewd (some might say underhanded) business had managed to acquire valuable property and ingratiate himself with the king.
Before Strongbow became an Earl, he had been just another unlikeable, conceited man, like any other of that ilk. Now that he ranked among the noble classes as Earl of Strongbow, he had become completely insufferable. His affluence had brought him fortune and treasure. It also had put many pounds on him and his fitness had begun to suffer some. His breathing was now raspy, as if he smoked too much, and his gluttony was beginning to bloat his face. Though his new lifestyle showed in his appearance, it had not yet impaired his fighting skills. He could still ride a horse and wield a sword as well as he ever did before.
Lord Kensley had gotten to know Earl Strongbow through parliamentary meetings and various social events. Earl Strongbow was a powerful friend of the king, and he was the only one who was able and willing to help Lord Kensley defend his land and livestock. No one else had resources at their fingertips like Earl Strongbow.
&n
bsp; “Lord Kensley,” his valet said. “The Right Honorable Earl of Strongbow has arrived.”
“Show him in,” Lord Kensley said.
Before the valet could usher the earl in properly, Earl Strongbow barged into the room. The valet bowed respectfully and left, closing the door behind him.
“So good of you to come on short notice, Lord Strongbow,” said Kensley, as he made his way to an oak chair behind his massive desk. Such furniture made Lord Kensley’s life more comfortable, and it also demonstrated his wealth and status. He tried not to hobble too much. He dropped himself down onto another luxury- a straw-stuffed cushion that covered the hard seat. He motioned to a matching chair and cushion and said, “Please, Lord Strongbow, do sit down. Your journey was a good one, I hope?”
Earl Strongbow sat, grunting as his weight flattened the cushion. He was in his mid-forties now. He looks every bit of it and more, thought Lord Kensley. Earl Strongbow crossed his chubby legs priggishly and waved a hand dismissively, like a man born into the noble rank he now held. “Oh, it was a bit long, but uneventful. I must say, Lord Kensley, your invitation left me intrigued. I have been looking forward to our . . . um . . . meeting.” Earl Strongbow smirked, as he looked around eyeing the tapestries hung on the walls. His gaze rested on Lord Kensley’s ankle, now propped up on a stool beside his desk.
“What ever happened to your foot? My word, it looks as big as a hornet’s nest! Is it fractured?” he asked.
Lord Kensley did not want to elaborate much about his injury. He had invited Earl Strongbow here to negotiate over an important business matter, not to talk about any feebleness of his. He needed to make a showing of strength to Earl Strongbow, not weakness.
“A little mishap with my horse is all. Tis nothing,” Lord Kensley said, dismissively. In fact, it was quite painful. He was quite worried that his ankle may not heal properly, and he would need to walk with a cane for the rest of his life. He needed to have a physician tend to it and planned to do so tomorrow.
Earl Strongbow said, “I see. Best take care. Have you seen your physician? All that swelling … appears to be broken. Needs to be set. Watch out for fever, abscess, and gangrene.”
“Thank you for your concern. I assure you it is only a minor sprain,” Lord Kensley said. An awkward silence ensued as the men sized each other up. Lord Kensley spoke first. “Well then, Strongbow, let us get down to business, shall we?”
Earl Strongbow held up a hand. “Of course. But first, please, Lord Kensley. I prefer you address me as Lord Strongbow.” Fulton smiled.
“Certainly . . . my apologies, Lord Strongbow,” Lord Kensley said, as he leaned back in his chair, trying to conceal the pain shooting up his leg. He folded his hands and took a deep breath.
Earl Strongbow said. “Now. I understand from your letter that this is an urgent matter?”
“Yes, I’m afraid it is,” Lord Kensley said, leaning forward and clasping his hands on his desk. “For the last several years, I have suffered great losses from the marauding Welsh bands from the west. The earls of Cheshire and Shropshire simply cannot, or will not, hold them back any further. Rumors are that the earls have made some kind of ‘arrangement’ with the bastards and now the Welsh are coming across the border at will, coming here to Staffordshire and stealing whatever they can get their hands on. My own wool production is a fraction of what it once was.”
Lord Strongbow nodded. “I, too, have heard stories about those thieves.”
Lord Kensley harrumphed. “I wish it were only the Welsh I have to contend with. The famine and the great pestilence took a heavy toll on the population here. Those who survived have left for London and anywhere they can make a living. Those who are left here cannot be trusted – today they support the Welsh princes. Tomorrow the English king. I am afraid I will not be able to provide arms to the king, should he request it. I simply cannot rely on the resources I have left.”
He sympathized with Lord Kensley by saying, “I understand what you mean. The country still has not recovered from the pestilence. It has already been a decade, but the population still hasn’t recovered.”
Lord Kensley nodded. “Right. And don’t forget the peasant’s revolt a couple of years ago. King Richard gave them everything they wanted. So no more workers for us and my crops are rotting in the field! No rent coming in. But God forbid the king does not get the money he wants for his next raid.”
He is quite desparate, thought Lord Strongbow. This could be a wonderful opportunity for me. Lord Strongbow said, “Everyone I talk to is looking for workers. There are not enough of them to go around. My own workers are so burdened they hardly get enough rest. But I pay them well, and I have invested in cloth-making and other businesses, not simply agriculture and wool exports.”
Lord Kensley said, “Very smart of you, Strongbow. I must say, I would like to go that direction myself. The king will bring us all to ruin if he’s not careful.”
“Are you saying what I think you are, Lord Kensley? Are you saying that you are … broke?” Earl Strongbow asked with a rude bluntness.
Lord Kenley bowed his head and said, “No – I mean, well ...that is … not yet.” Lord Kensley then looked directly at Earl Strongbow, trying to hide his dislike for the man. “But without your help, it won’t be long. Needless to say, I could use a loan, though I would not be able to repay you immediately.”
“You certainly have a serious problem,” Earl Strongbow said, assuming an air of condescension. “I have the best soldiers in all of England. Many border shires would pay a pretty sum for my assistance. The Welsh are raiding from the west, and the Scots are raiding the northern shires. My services are in great demand. Why should I help you?”
Lord Kensley had anticipated this question. “As Earl of Kensley, my heritage is old and venerated. My allies are indebted to me, but they are not in a much better position than I am. My soldiers are loyal only to me. You will have my allegiance and that of all my allies. I will see that you have privileged and exclusive right of way through Staffordshire, its roads and rivers that lead to neighboring Cheshire and its ports of trade on the Irish Sea. You can peddle your wool and your goods anywhere in the world.”
Earl Strongbow was quiet.
“Think of it, Strongbow,” Lord Kensley continued. “The power of our allegiance would be unparalleled in England. Working together, we could both profit mightily from an alliance.” Who knows, thought Lord Kensley. An alliance with Earl Strongbow could be such a deterrence to foreign incursions, the king just may grant them more lands and riches.
Earl Strongbow was quiet for another moment. When he spoke, his response took Lord Kensley by surprise. “Tell me, Kensley. How is your daughter, the lovely Rowena?”
“My daughter? Why, Rowena is doing well, thank you. She has grown into a lovely young lady under the tutelage of St. Martha’s at Jarrow. I made the right decision sending her there. What prompts you to inquire about Rowena?”
Earl Strongbow leveled his gaze at Lord Kensley. “Yes, I caught a glimpse of her when I was in Northumberland defending the crown against the Scottish raiders last year. We were forced to lodge at the nunnery one night unexpectedly when the weather turned foul and several of my men had taken ill with a fever. The nuns took us in and fed us. My needs were attended by the most ravishing girl I had ever seen. She took my breath away when I saw her. I asked the old Abbess Lenora – what a hag that one is -- who the young beauty was. She informed me the girl was your daughter who had been entrusted into their care some years back. Apparently, she has become quite notorious for her uncommon beauty.”
Lord Kensley puffed his chest a bit. “Why thank you, Earl Strongbow, er, I mean Lord Strongbow. I am quite proud of Rowena. It took a lot of courage for her to accept things when her mother died, I must say. I visit her every chance I get, but lately I’ve been remiss.”
“What a shame that she is cloistered away in that isolated wilderness,” Earl Strongbow said. “She needs to be dressed in silks and finery and shown off
to the upper crust of London!”
Lord Kensley looked dismayed, but did not argue. He dare not say anything that would jeopardize an agreement with Earl Strongbow.
“She must be what . . . eighteen, maybe nineteen, now? What plans have you made for her future?” Earl Strongbow asked.
Lord Kensley sighed. Earl Strongbow was close to touching a nerve. Lord Kensley had been putting off making plans for his daughter’s future. She was a grown woman now, and the time was at hand. He sighed again. His life had become overwhelming. Rowena’s future was one more worry that he needed to manage that he had happily avoided. “At this point, I have no plans for her. She seems quite content at St. Martha’s and has hinted on occasion at her interest in becoming a nun. Her future is up in the air at the moment. I have been so terribly distracted by matters here that I have not yet tended to long-term planning for her.”
Earl Strongbow’s eyes narrowed. He tapped his fingers on the desk, leaned forward and said in a low, suggestive tone, “Have you considered, Lord Kensley, that your lovely daughter may be the key to your financial security?”
Lord Kensley shook his head, wary of the direction this conversation was heading. “What are you driving at, Lord Strongbow?”
Earl Strongbow looked at him with condescension in his face, as if the solution was obvious to anyone of average intelligence. He gave a smug smile and he said, “Well now. Give your predicament some thought, Lord Kensley.” Earl Strongbow looked down his nose at his fingernails and said, “Let me make this easy for both of us. I will agree to an alliance with you under the terms you proposed… But I require one additional concession from you.”
Lord Kensley kept a stone face, hiding the relief he felt wash over him, followed immediately by apprehension. That was too easy, he thought. What else did Earl Strongbow want from him? Whatever it was, Lord Kensley would do it. It would be bad enough to have to collaborate with this hufty-tufty Strongbow but it was better than certain financial ruin without his resources and influence. At least Strongbow sees some advantage to an alliance. What else did he want? Lord Kensley asked, “I see. Tell me, what is the additional condition you propose?”
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