"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."

"How do we know she has not lied?" Isleen said softly. "Perhaps I can have a child for you, Saer. I am sure she has lied!"

"No," Saer de Bude replied. "She did not lie. She would not. There is no deception in her, Isleen. She is a true innocent. I suspect she never meant to tell you of Richard’s bastards, but that you actually drove her to anger with your lack of sympathy regarding your husband’s death. She will say a hundred Aves to expiate that sin." He chuckled. "Now, you must go into the hall and show your respect for your husband. We have waited long for this day, my pretty cousin."

"Do you think they suspect anything?"

"They are peasants," Saer de Bude said, "and Eleanore has not been here long enough to realize something was wrong. No. I am certain no one knows that we have killed your husband, Isleen. No one." He smiled warmly at her. "Did I not promise you when your father gave you to Richard de Montfort that you and I would be together one day? I have kept my promise, Isleen. Now you must be patient just awhile longer, and you must trust me. If you do, we will have each other, an heir, and Ashlin for ourselves. Promise me, Isleen. Promise me you will resign yourself to waiting a bit longer. If you should lose your composure now, we could lose everything, including our lives. Do you understand me, Isleen? You must make your peace with Eleanore this very day, my pretty. Give me your bond, cousin."

"But what if I could give you a child?" she persisted.

"If you could, you already would have done so, Isleen," he told her. "I have bedded you practically every night since I arrived at Ashlin, even during some of your unclean periods. Never have you conceived of my seed, and like your husband, I have my smattering of bastards, including a little girl born several months ago here at Ashlin."

"Ohhh, villian!" she shrieked, pulling away from him and striking out at him with both of her fists.

"Cease your caterwauling, bitch!" Saer de Bude said. "It is a man’s right to amuse himself among his serfs. Now, go and behave as a proper grieving widow would, Isleen. Our future is secure if you can manage to keep your head and your temper in check." He released her wrists, which he had caught when she began beating him, and gave her a push toward the door of the solar.

Isleen moved away from him. Her look was scathing. "When will you force the little nun?" she asked. "The sooner we begin this charade, the sooner it is played out."

"Let me try and woo her first," he responded.

"Like you did this morning? You have not so many tunics, my love, that you can allow another one to be spoiled."

"My error in judgment was approaching a virtuous young maiden too quickly. I meant to help her with the linens. She misunderstood."

Isleen snorted in derision. "You allowed your lust to gain the upper hand, Saer. Do not he to me, my love, for I above all people know you best. Now, I will go and humble myself before Ashlin’s new lady, claiming shock and grief were responsible for my temper. I will beg her forgiveness, and she will give it to me because it would not occur to her that I was lying, or had any other motive."

"Eleanore is not a fool, Isleen," he warned her. "Pure of heart and innocent of the world she may be, but she is no simpleton. Make certain you are sincere. Remember, there is none among the serfs or house servants who love you. You have not been an easy mistress. They will seek to find fault with you at every turn and complain to Ashlin’s new lady of the manor. They knew her from birth until you convinced Richard to send her away. Old Ida in particular bears you malice for that selfish deed."

"Why should I have had to raise someone else’s brat?" Isleen snapped. Then she smoothered her veil, making certain that her fillet was neatly in place. "Leave my chamber after I have gone," she said, and departed.

In the hall Isleen found her husband already laid out in his coffin upon an oaken bier. At each corner of the bier, a tall footed candlestick had been placed, and from each stick a tall beeswax candle burned. Roses from the garden and field flowers were arranged in large stone jars by his head and his feet. His hands had been folded neatly upon his chest beneath his shroud. A crucifix had been placed on his chest. His hair, or what was left of it, was neatly combed. A snug binding was wrapped about his head and under his chin, preventing his mouth from sagging open. A little copper penny had been placed upon each of his eyelids to keep them closed. He looked quite peaceful.

Isleen gave a shriek, and then flung herself dramatically upon her dead spouse’s coffin. "Richard, my love! Oh, why have you left me?" she wailed, and began to sob in a most convincing manner.