The Squire’s Tale

by Margaret Frazer

  ‘I suppose,“ Domina Elisabeth agreed with a regretful sigh. On the priory’s behalf, Frevisse hoped; but the small thought arose, as it sometimes did, that Domina Elisabeth, despite she kept her nun’s vows well, had not only a useful understanding of the world’s ways but sometimes a longing for them, too. Such as for a rich gown to impress another lady, even if on the priory’s behalf, not her own. But if she did, she rarely gave way to them and was saying now, crisply, as she moved toward the warming room door, ”See to the other things, then. Father Henry and I will come give our blessings before you go.“

  Gathering what she and Dame Claire needed and packing it into bags for travel took very little time but she had barely done before a servant was come to say Lady Blaunche was set to leave. Frevisse sent the woman to tell Domina Elisabeth and went herself to the infirmary for Dame Claire, finding her at the worktable there, strapping closed the box she carried medicines in when she had to go elsewhere.

  Not bothering with the silence they would have to let go of anyway once they were outside of St. Frideswide’s, Frevisse said, “They’re ready to leave.”

  Dame Claire gave the strap a final pull, secured the buckle, and said, “So am I. You’re in this with me, then?”

  Frevisse granted that with a rueful nod.

  ‘Ah, well.“ Dame Claire took the box from the table and came toward the door. ”What can’t be cured must be eaten with a long-handled spoon, as Dame Emma might say.“

  With a slightly further sinking of her spirits, Frevisse realized by Dame Claire’s cheerfulness that she had no regrets at all about this going out. With her, love of God came first, love of medicine next, and love of prayers only somewhere, though probably closely, after that. For Frevisse it was otherwise; for her, her love of God was so closely bound about by praying that she had no way to unbind one from the other. To have to leave behind the Offices, knowing how difficult it was to keep to them even a little while dealing in the world…

  ‘We’re ready, then?“ Dame Claire asked, picking up the box.

  Frevisse held up her arms, a saddlebag and a cloak over each. “Change of clothing, change of shoes, night things, our breviaries and Psalters.”

  Dame Claire set the box down. “Best I put the cloak on here. Has the rain stopped?”

  ‘For a little. It looks likely to start again, though.“

  Going back through the cloister walk, they met Domina Elisabeth coming from chapter meeting to see them off and in the guesthall courtyard found Lady Blaunche’s four men waiting with the horses and Father Henry. While one of the men strapped Dame Claire’s bag behind her saddle and another took the medicine box to pack into one of the hampers on the packhorse, Father Henry and Domina Elisabeth gave their blessings and made farewell, with Father Henry at Domina Elisabeth’s prompting formally releasing them both from the saying of the Offices at length while they were gone. Such pardon was commonly given and, “Do as you can, best as you can,” Father Henry said. “God knows what’s in your heart.”

  Frevisse, doubting God would approve of what was in her heart at the moment, bowed her head more low, trying for humility and acceptance where she was hard put to want either.

  ‘You’re freed, too, from heavy fasting,“ Domina Elisabeth said. ”There’ll be greater demands on you bodily outside the cloister. Fast, but only so far as does you no harm.“

  The man had taken Frevisse’s bag and was strapping it behind her saddle now, leaving her free to put on her own cloak as Lady Blaunche came out of the guesthall, Katherine with her, Mistress Dionisia and Lady Blaunche’s woman following after. Frevisse did not know whether Katherine had spent the night there instead of in her cloister room or had simply breakfasted with Lady Blaunche. What she did know, by her first look at Katherine’s face, was that the girl was showing no feelings at all, one way or another, either to gladness or sadness, at leaving. She merely looked… nothing.

  It came to Frevisse that most of the time she had been in St. Frideswide’s, except maybe when she had been playing with Lucy and Helen, there had always been a careful stillness to Katherine, as if she were waiting for whatever might come next. As if, maybe, she was afraid of what might come next.

  But Lady Blaunche was making a cheerful bustle down the guesthall stairs, coming to thank Domina Elisabeth for all she had done for Katherine and for letting Dame Claire go with her, adding, “And?” with a meaningful look at Frevisse before Domina Elisabeth could have a word in.

  ‘Dame Frevisse,“ Domina Elisabeth answered. ”Our precentress.“

  ‘Dame Frevisse,“ Lady Blaunche repeated with a gracious nod and smile in Frevisse’s direction. ”Yes, you’re one of the ones Katherine mentioned.“

  ‘My lady,“ Frevisse murmured but Lady Blaunche was already turning away with a sweeping look around at everything and everyone. Like most Fenners, she was of moderate height and a solid build. Years and childbearing were working their ways to broaden her but she was not yet run to fat and likely never would, Frevisse guessed, watching as she set to organizing Katherine and Mistress Dionisia to their horses with the busy assurance of someone who knows nothing will turn out right if they do not see to it. Girths were fussed over, baggage made certain, questions about the horses asked before finally Lady Blaunche allowed the men to set to helping her and the other women into their saddles. The man seemingly given charge of the nuns for now led Dame Claire’s horse toward the mounting block when she asked him because, unused as she was to riding, she wanted all the help she could have, but Frevisse, left beside an unimpressive bay gelding, gathered up its reins for herself, shook back her skirts to clear her foot for the stirrup, took hold of the saddlebow, and swung herself up into the saddle, glad there was no fashionable nonsense over side-sitting in box seats, even by Lady Blaunche. Finished with settling her skirts and cloak, she found everyone else was ready, too, however uncertain about it Dame Claire might look, with Lady Blaunche sorting them into the order she wanted: two of the men to ride ahead, the women in pairs behind them, Lady Blaunche with Dame Claire, Frevisse beside Katherine, the two waiting women together and the other two men behind.

  Domina Elisabeth and Father Henry had faded back toward the cloister door, out of the general way of things but now the priest came forward, to raise a hand and make general blessing at them for their journey. They all crossed themselves in answer and then the lead men swung away toward the gate, leading the way into the outer yard. Priory folk were there about their morning business among the byres, barns, sheds and stables that served the worldly side of the nunnery’s life and some paused to watch the riders go by because even though come-and-go was part of the nunnery’s life, it was rarely nuns who came and went, and as they neared the outer gate, a tall boy somewhere in the awkwardness between childhood and youth came to stride at Frevisse’s side, asking up at her, “When will you be coming back?”

  ‘Good morning to you, too, Dickon.“

  ‘Good morning, my lady,“ he returned belatedly and unabashedly. The steward’s son, he had grown up at St. Frideswide’s with no awe of nuns. ”Going to be gone for long?“

  ‘As God wills,“ she said, smiling at him.

  ‘Safe journeying,“ he said and as he dropped aside she turned in her saddle to raise her hand in farewell. He waved back cheerily, the last familiar face before they rode through the priory’s outer gateway into the world and it was only as they swung rightward into the narrow road between the greening hedgerows did Frevisse realize she had no thought of where they were going except away. Ahead and behind, the other women were already in talk with one another and she turned to Katherine to ask, ”Where are we bound for?“

  Katherine looked at her, momentarily surprised, before lightly laughing, saying with sympathy, “It’s come of a sudden, hasn’t it? To Brinskep, Master Fenner’s Warwickshire manor.”

  ‘More than a day’s ride?“ Frevisse said, remembering something of what Robert had said.

  ‘It could be a long day’s ride if you start ea
rlier than this and ride at a hard pace.“

  ‘And for us?“

  ‘Likely midday tomorrow, the roads allowing.“

  Rain spattered down in answer to that and Frevisse reached back to pull her hood up. Katherine reached over to help her set it over her wimple and veil, then Frevisse helped her with hers. The close-felted wool would serve against all but a heavy rain and happily the low-swept clouds looked likely to be too busy on the wind to bother with much more than showers.

  Ahead, likewise busy with hoods, Lady Blaunche was saying to Dame Claire, “It was yesterday the rain was bad. There was rain all the morning. When I awoke and heard it, I nearly didn’t want to bother with getting out of bed. You could tell it was the kind that would go on for hours. This looks like it will pass, though.” She turned in her saddle to say back at Frevisse and Katherine, “We’ll likely have sun by this afternoon. You’ll see.”

  Katherine agreed they likely would and Frevisse nodded, too, and Lady Blaunche returned her attention to Dame Claire. Frevisse called up her manners and asked Katherine, “Are you glad to be going home?”

  ‘Yes,“ Katherine said, paused, then added, ”Of course.“ And after another moment, ”In some ways.“ And very quietly, ”But I was far happier in St. Frideswide’s than I’d expected to be.“

  ‘I’m glad,“ Frevisse said, for awkward lack of a better answer.

  Katherine smiled almost apologetically, as if the awkwardness were her fault instead of no one’s. “I’ve never spent days in a nunnery before. I didn’t know it was like that. The busyness mingled with the quiet. And the prayers. The Offices. They’re so… beautiful.” She looked back and Frevisse looked with her. The road was cresting a small rise and through a field gate’s gap in the hedge there was a last glimpse of the church roof and the top of its squat tower. “I’m sorry to leave. I’ve been…” Again she hesitated before saying, “… happy with being safe here.”

  They were beyond the hedge-gap now, St. Frideswide’s lost to sight, and Frevisse, giving in to the curiosity, asked, “What changed to bring on this sudden leaving? From the way Master Fenner talked of it, I thought you’d be longer with us.”

  ‘So did I. But there’s been ongoing trouble over Lady Blaunche’s dower land from her second husband and it seems that all of a sudden the Allesleys and Master Fenner have finally both agreed on arbitration, to settle outside the courts if possible.“ She paused but so clearly with something more to say that Frevisse held silent until slowly Katherine went on, staring forward at her horse’s ears. ”From what Lady Blaunche says, the Allesleys have said they’re willing to consider my marrying their heir as part of the recompense Master Fenner would otherwise have to pay for them for having been wrongly kept from their land this while.“

  If Katherine was as wealthy an heiress as seemed likely, she had probably understood all of her life that her marriage would be something arranged for her, to one person or another’s profit, and Frevisse passed by the question of her marriage to, “Have the lands been wrongly kept?”

  Katherine looked up from her horse’s ears toward Lady Blaunche’s back. “Master Fenner says so, but Lady Blaunche”—Katherine dropped her voice even lower than it had been—“holds to her own way of seeing things.”

  Held to it come what may and in despite of everybody, Frevisse silently suspected and had the regretful thought that she was probably not going to like the trouble into which she was riding; but since there seemed no help for it, she might as well know more and asked, “Have you met this Allesley heir they’re thinking of for your husband?”

  ‘No.“

  A flat and simple statement that invited no other questions that way. Frevisse tried instead, “Is it much land in question?”

  That Katherine answered readily enough. “The smaller of the Northamptonshire manors.”

  ‘Master Fenner has others, then?“

  ‘One other in Northamptonshire and Brinskep where we’re going in Warwickshire. The one the Allesleys claim is the least of the three.“ Katherine hesitated, then said on a rush, ”And Master Fenner says it would be worth being rid of it for him not to be bothered over it anymore.“ Katherine turned her head to look at her, still remembering to keep her voice low as she went on, as if glad to say it out, ”The mother of Lady Blaunche’s second husband was married first to an Allesley. She had the manor of Northend for her dower from him. When she was widowed, she married again and had her only child, Sir Ralph, and inherited everything from his mother. But when she died, the dower land should have gone back to the Allesleys and instead Sir Ralph kept it and gave it to Lady Blaunche as her dower when they married and she’s kept it ever since, declaring it’s hers and that the Allesleys can go hang before they have it from her.“

  ‘She’s not pleased that her husband is trying to settle with them, then?“

  Katherine gave Lady Blaunche’s back a worried glance. “Not pleased in the least.”

  ‘But she brought the token from Master Fenner and you’re certain he’s sent for you?“

  As soon as she had asked it, Frevisse wished she had not because there was nothing to be gained by alarming the girl. But come to that, why had it even crossed her thoughts that there might be cause for alarm?

  But Katherine said without worry, “Oh, yes.”

  ‘Look!“ Mistress Avys exclaimed behind them. ”Blue sky!“

  There was a patch of it indeed and when that diversion was done, neither Frevisse nor Katherine took up their talk where it had been but rode silent save when Lady Blaunche or either of the waiting-women passed comments to them that must needs be answered, until somewhat late in the morning the road passed through Banbury’s south gate, became a street and opened out among the houses and shops into the marketplace with its finely wrought Eleanor cross and, more to the present necessity, a choice of inns for their dinner. Lady Blaunche had been happy enough with the Green Lion on her way to St. Frideswide’s to return there now and the meal they were served at one of the long tables in its main room justified her choice though Frevisse and Dame Claire perforce made do with ale and bread and a simple pease pottage meant for servants. But it was a new brewing of ale, and the bread, though rye, was satisfyingly crusty outside and soft—for rye bread—within. They had to refuse butter on it and as the tormenting smell of the other women’s mutton stew reached them Dame Claire said aside to Frevisse, “This is not going to be easy”; but no one had stinted on the herbs in the pease pottage and it was savory enough that all in all they did none so badly.

  Trouble only came at the meal’s end, when Lady Blaunche was paying the host and he asked where they were bound for and she answered, “North into Warwickshire.”

  To that he frowned worriedly and asked, “By the direct way, my lady?”

  She frowned back at him. “Of course by the direct way. Why?”

  ‘The northward bridge into Warwickshire is out. Yesterday’s rains did for it, seems like.“

  ‘It’s out?“ Lady Blaunche’s voice rose. ”I crossed it yesterday. It can’t be out!“

  ‘It is, my lady. Two different carters have been in here today, not half angry about having to turn back and take another road.“

  ‘But I have to go that way,“ Lady Blaunche said. ”That’s the road I want to take!“

  ‘I can’t help you there, my lady.“ The man was regretful but too used to travellers and their upsets at what he could not change to be much bothered by this present one.

  ‘What about fording anywhere that way?“ one of the men asked.

  ‘Shouldn’t have much hope of any ford,“ the host said. ”Not if the water’s been bad enough to take that bridge out. Your best hope is east over the Cherwell bridge here. It’s—“

  ‘I don’t want to go east!“ Lady Blaunche protested.

  ‘Or else try westward to the first bridge upriver. There’s no trouble that way that I’ve heard.“

  He withdrew across the room then, leaving Lady Blaunche speechlessly near to distraught and no
one knowing what to say, until she sat herself abruptly down onto a bench and said at no one in particular, “I don’t want to go that way.”

  ‘My lady,“ Mistress Avys tried soothingly, ”it’s not that great a matter to be upsetting yourself for it.“

  ‘I have to go that way,“ Lady Blaunche repeated.

  ‘But you can’t,“ one of the men dared. ”There’s not point in even trying, what with the bridge out. Best we can do is go straight for the first bridge upriver and be done with it.“

  Lady Blaunche shot angrily to her feet. “But that puts us on a whole different road to home!”

  ‘It makes no odds, my lady,“ Mistress Avys said, beginning to be distressed with her. ”We’ll be a little later home is all. Isn’t that so, Jack?“