"Arthur of Ashlin, I grant you sanctuary here at St. Frideswide’s for a year and a day. If we cannot straighten this matter out by then, I shall grant you sanctuary for as long as it takes," the abbess said. "Now, go to the stables, my lad, where Sister Joseph is in charge. Tell her I said she is to house you and find work for you to do."

Arthur knelt before the abbess, and taking up the hem of her robe, kissed it. "I thank you, my lady abbess, for your mercy." Then he stood and left the hall.

"Oh, thank you, Reverend Mother! Arthur was my childhood playmate, and one of the first to greet me warmly on my return to Ashlin. Ida, his grandmother, was my nursemaid. I would not want to be the cause of his death…" She was sobbing now.

The abbess recognized that Elf was suffering from shock, but there were questions she had to ask. " I must know exactly what it is this man did to you, my daughter. Come, and sit with me," she said, leading the girl to a bench set against the wall. "Now, speak honestly to me, Eleanore de Montfort. Your immortal soul stands in peril if you lie to me. Do you understand, my daughter?"

"Yes, Reverend Mother," Elf replied, and she shuddered. "He grabbed me, and kissed me. He fondled my breast. Then he threw me to the floor of the shed, and exposed his male member to me. He was saying horrible things to me, about how I should like what he would do." She shuddered again, but swallowing hard as she relived the attack, she bravely continued on. "Then he laid his body on mine. I was screaming, and screaming, and thank God, Arthur came. He pulled my attacker from me, hitting him on the jaw. It was when he fell back that Saer de Bude’s head grazed the edge of the table.

"I saw the blood gush from the wound, and wanted to remain to aid him, but Arthur would not let me. We ran back to the manor, and Cedric, my steward, went back to the shed. My attacker was alive and moving. Cedric told him to remain where he was, and he would fetch help. In the meantime Ida gathered my belongings together, and Arthur and I fled here to St. Frideswide's," Elf concluded.

"Did your attacker’s male member touch your private parts, or penetrate you at any time, my daughter?" the abbess probed.

"No! Never, Reverend Mother!" The shocked look on Elf’s face told the nun that the girl was telling the truth.

"Are you wearing the same clothing as you wore when you were accosted?" the abbess asked. She had to make certain, as painful as it was.

"All but my tunica and camisa," Elf said. "He tore those from me when he sought to fondle me." Her face was pale. "May I have a bath, Reverend Mother? I can yet smell that man’s body on me."

"Of course, my daughter, and you may bathe this night only without your camisa. Tell Sister Cuthbert I said so. Nay, I will tell her so myself." She arose from the bench. "Come, my poor Eleanore, let us go and find Sister Cuthbert, and get you settled safely."

They left the chapter house and walked across the cloister to the dormitory where the girls were housed. Both Sister Cuthbert and Matti, now Sister Columba, hurried forward to hug Elf.

"Go inside with Sister Columba, my daughter, and take the tub from its cabinet. Then begin filling it with water warmed from the fire. Use the small tub. It will be easier for you. Come and tell us when you are ready," the abbess instructed the two girls. When they had gone off, she spoke seriously to Sister Cuthbert, telling her what had happened. "I am certain Eleanore has told me the truth as she knows it, but sometimes the shock of such a terrible experience, the fright- Well, just be certain there is no blood on her skirts or her thighs. The man ripped her camisa and tunica so they were changed, but we must be sure she is still a virgin, and pure, Cuthbert."

The younger nun’s face was stricken with sorrow. "What a terrible time the poor girl has had, but I will make certain as you have asked me, Reverend Mother. Still, I am sure Eleanore told you the truth. Her calling means too much to her that she would lie. Who was the lad who escorted her?"

"The serf who rescued her. His name is Arthur, and we have given him sanctuary because his brave and noble actions have put him in jeopardy. You well know the punishment for a serf who hits a master."


Sister Cuthbert nodded. "But it would be an injustice for them to punish the boy for defending his mistress, wouldn't it?"

"We will wait to see if this knight files charges," the abbess said. "If he does, and they come here for the boy, we shall tell them he has sanctuary and speak for him in the courts. Knowing what has happened, it would not be right for us to do otherwise."

Chapter 5

Hugh de Warenne looked at his youngest daughter with annoyance and distaste. She was still beautiful, and certainly young enough to make a second marriage. Yet he was extremely irritated at her. "If you had given Richard a child, even a daughter, you would have been a very eligible widow. As it is, I shall have to find some old man, desperate for a child, who will overlook your small dowry."

"She is barren," Saer de Bude told his uncle. "Both Richard de Montfort and I fathered bastards at Ashlin, but your daughter could not conceive by either of us."

"You were at her again, then?" his uncle replied wearily. "Well, if what you have told me is true, then at least we will have no bastards from her. Yes, an old man with gold is just what we shall find for you, Isleen. We shall blame your childlessness on him, and when he dies you will be a wealthy widow, ready for another rich old man’s bed, eh? You'll like that, won't you, you greedy little bitch?" He chuckled, then turned to his nephew. "As for you, Saer de Bude, what am I to do with you? You are my sister’s son, and I feel an obligation toward you, but how can I settle a man with nothing to offer?"

"Richard de Monfort’s sister is Ashlin’s heiress. Arrange a match for me with her, and I shall have my own lands. She’s a pretty creature, and I want her."

"The nun? Are you mad, boy?" his uncle snapped.


"She has not yet taken her final vows, and will not until October, Uncle. I have already had her, Uncle, but in a burst of remorse she fled back to her convent. She was aided by one of her serfs, a lad who was her childhood playmate. I am certain he has dallied with her, too, for she was no real virgin, Uncle. I have filed charges with the local sheriff. The boy will be hanged when he is caught."

"If the girl is loose, why take her, then?" his uncle demanded.

"I forced it from her that he had only used his fingers on her, and not his male member. I ploughed her furrow well, Uncle. She may already be with child. My child. The next rightful heir to Ashlin if I can but wed her. Give me your aid, Uncle."

The baron considered his nephew’s request thoughtfully. He was the youngest of his sister’s brood, and had always been a mercurial fellow. Still, he was a good soldier, but Saer had a weakness for women. Any woman. Baron Hugh had given Richard de Montfort a larger dowry for Isleen than he otherwise might have, for he had caught his daughter and her randy cousin in flagrante delicto, their bodies intertwined, sweating and groaning as they serviced each other. From the look of it, he had known it was not the first time. His wife, when told, had beaten Isleen thoroughly, then taught her daughter how to feign her long-gone virginity. If Richard de Montfort had realized the deception played upon him, he had never complained, for he was madly in love with her. Now Isleen was back like a bad penny, and he discovered that Saer had been at Ashlin for almost a year.

Hugh de Warenne did not want to know the truth. He had his suspicions, for Richard de Montfort had been an exceptionally healthy man until a year ago. These two bad pennies would bring ruin upon them all if he did not separate them for good and all. A young wife, children, the responsibility of a manor would certainly keep Saer’s thoughts from Isleen. As for his daughter, the sooner he could find a husband for her, the better. In the meantime, his wife must handle the problem. Isleen was, after all, in mourning for her husband. Or at least it must appear to be so. The bitch, he thought irritably.

"I'll dispatch two messengers in the morning. The first to the Bishop of Worcester, telling him what you have told me. The second to the king asking that he appoint me the lady Eleanore’s guardian. When I have that authority, I will arrange your marriage, nephew. Will that suit you, Saer?"

"Very much, Uncle," Saer du Bude replied.

In her father’s garden that evening, having escaped her mother’s vigilant eyes, Isleen excoriated her lover. "Why did you not help me when my father said he would find a husband for me? We will never be together, Saer. I do not think you love me at all."

Backing her against a stout oak, Saer de Bude raised Isleen’s skirts and lifted her up to slowly push his member into her. "Do not love you, my pretty? Is this the cock of a man who does not love you?"

"It is the cock of a lustful man," Isleen murmured, putting her arms about him as she locked her legs about his waist.

He smiled into her face. "You are the only woman I have ever loved or will love. Your fathers plan is perfect, Isleen. You will wed a rich man who will expect you to give him a child, which you cannot, but he will not know that. When he begins to become impatient with you, you will slowly poison him as you did Richard. In the meantime I will wed the little nun, and she will give me a son. Then she, too, will die, and lord Saer of Ashlin will marry the wealthy widow, the lady Isleen. With our wealth we will buy more land until we become a great power in the area. It is so perfect, Isleen, and all we need is to be patient, my pretty."