He tried to deny that God was truly speaking to his soul. He was the lord of the manor and wasn’t afraid of anything. But his conscience pricked him again. He was afraid. Afraid of the agony he had felt from loving Guinevere and then finding she never loved him and never would. He was humiliated and betrayed, both publicly and privately, by the only woman he had ever loved.
It was easier to believe the worst about everyone, especially women. But if he held that attitude toward Annabel, he was no better than the village priest, who repeatedly condemned his flock for being full of depraved lusts, and condemned women as universally wicked. Ranulf didn’t want to be bitter and cruel like Sir Matefrid, but if he was honest with himself, that was what he had become.
O God, forgive me. He forced himself not to groan aloud as he closed his eyes and prayed for forgiveness. Even as he did so, however, he wanted to cling to his belief that all women, especially beautiful ones, were duplicitous and evil. If all women were evil, then it wasn’t his fault that his wife had not loved him, had been repulsed by him, and had loved another man. If all women were evil, he could hate them all to dull the pain of his wife’s betrayal.
He hadn’t been listening to Annabel read for some minutes. She’d come to the part where Jesus said, “The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priests and the teachers of the law, and he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.” Then he said to them all: ‘Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will save it. What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, and yet lose or forfeit their very self?’”
He knew if he had it to do over, he wouldn’t have allowed the wolf to hurt that servant girl. He shouldn’t resent his scars. Are they not proof, God, that I have lost my life to save it? But he was sorry his inner scars had caused him to lash out at Annabel.
“Wait,” he said, stopping her reading before he should change his mind.
She looked up at him with a curious expression.
“I’m sorry for what I said when the bailiff asked to marry you.”
Her cheeks flushed red and she looked down.
“I never should have assumed the worst of you. I was wrong when I said the bailiff should count himself fortunate you refused to marry him.”
She shook her head and looked confused, no doubt surprised that someone as bitter and ill-tempered as he would apologize. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.
“Simply say you forgive me, and I am satisfied.”
“I forgive you,” she said.
There was silence for several long moments, then he said, “When a person has been hurt, they must let God heal them or their pain will drive them into sin. You understand?”
A crease formed between her eyes. “I do.” She stared down at the page.
Was she thinking about saying something more? Was she thinking of hurts she had experienced in the past? He waited, realizing he was holding his breath, hoping she would speak.
The door creaked open. Ranulf clenched his jaw in annoyance. He turned and saw one of the maids — Beatrice, he thought her name was — walk hesitantly into the room. Her gaze skimmed from him to Annabel and stopped. The girl pursed her lips. He was about to demand what she was doing there when she smiled broadly at him and hurried to his chair.
“My lord, if it pleases you, I would be happy to bring you something for your arm, for the burn.” Beatrice stopped a mere handbreadth away and leaned forward. She went on in a breathy voice, “My mother always was the best at collecting the finest herbs for any sickness or injury, and I know what will do your arm good. Allow me to change your bandage tomorrow and I will show you how to apply — “
“Thank you. I will let you know if I need your assistance. You may go.”
“Yes, my lord.” As she left she curtsied low and shot another glance at Annabel.
He turned away from the girl and saw Annabel struggling to rise from the chair while holding the heavy book in her arms.
“I should go as well.” She looked at him for permission, and her expression had turned to one of worry. He took the book from her, and without meeting his eye, she went out the door behind Beatrice.
He was struck again by the difference between Beatrice’s practiced flirting and Annabel’s open sincerity. But thinking about that only led to an ache in his chest. At the same time, he realized he felt lighter, as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders. He was looking at things from a different perspective than before, and it was as if he had reached the end of a journey, only to embark on a new one.
Beatrice caught Annabel’s arm when she came into the undercroft. “Why do you always get to change the lord’s bandage?” she hissed.
“I don’t know. Because Mistress Eustacia asked me to?” Perhaps she doesn’t trust you because you’re always flirting with him.
“You had better tell her to let me bandage the lord’s arm tomorrow. Do you understand, Annabel?” Beatrice poked her finger into Annabel’s shoulder.
Annabel slapped her hand away. “I’ll do what Mistress Eustacia tells me and so will you.”
“You just want Lord le Wyse all to yourself. I don’t believe you’re reading to him all that time, so what do you do up there? Tell us all about it, Annabel.” Beatrice stood a few inches taller than Annabel and glared down at her with her hands on her hips.
Annabel forced a laugh through her tight throat. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Beatrice, but there’s nothing happening except reading.” Perhaps you should stop thinking like our priest.
“Then let me change his bandage tomorrow.”
“If that’s what you want, Beatrice, you are welcome to take on as much of my work as you like.”
Beatrice leaned even closer, until her nose was almost touching Annabel’s.
Annabel laughed again. “You can change his bandage tomorrow, Beatrice. I truly don’t care.” But she did care — a little bit — if she were honest with herself. Beatrice trying to touch Lord le Wyse, trying to tempt him to think of her as more than just a servant … The thought was so unpleasant Annabel had to turn away from Beatrice to keep the girl from seeing the daggers in her eyes.
Beatrice said a few more things about being allowed to help Lord le Wyse, making vague threats if Annabel got in her way, but Annabel wasn’t listening. She was too busy pushing away the image of Beatrice enticing Lord le Wyse.
Annabel went about her duties the next day. This time, when she filled Lord le Wyse’s tankard, he said, “Thank you.” He was still quiet, but his mood no longer seemed so black. As he ate, he gazed out the window instead of staring down at his drink with a grimace on his face. Perhaps the Bible reading was doing him as much good as it was her. She felt a lightness in her heart that she hadn’t felt since her father died.
He had also begun staring at a red rose on the stone mantle above the fireplace. It was a beautiful rose, and had been opening a little bit more every day since Mistress Eustacia picked it and brought it inside. Annabel had never seen a more perfect flower. It seemed to grow fuller and more beautiful every day.
Later, when she was outside helping Mistress Eustacia hang out the washing, she noticed Lord le Wyse walking with Gilbert Carpenter, who held a sheet of parchment they seemed to be perusing and discussing. She watched as they strolled with their backs to her, obviously deep in conversation. Gilbert turned to Lord le Wyse and seemed very animated, moving his arms and hands as he talked. Lord le Wyse looked at the parchment and at him, nodding every so often. Then he reached out and picked a sizable leaf off a tree. He studied the leaf in his hand, and Annabel wondered if he was even listening to the mason.
Lord le Wyse’s shoulders were very broad compared to Gilbert’s. He was several inches taller too, and his posture was regal, yet relaxed. Gilbert was wiry, while Lord le Wyse was solid.
She shook her head, suddenly realiz
ing how long she’d been staring at the two men, comparing their looks. She went back to hanging the clothes on the line.
She determined to dismiss thoughts of her lord and his master mason and think instead on the tasks Mistress Eustacia had given her to do that day. It was a long list, and Annabel ticked off each task in her head until Lord le Wyse and Gilbert Carpenter disappeared down the path toward the site of her lord’s new home.
That night after the evening meal, Eustacia brought the bandages, honey, and clean water to Annabel and nudged her toward where Lord le Wyse sat. She looked up into the mistress’s face. Surely the older woman didn’t have romantic ideas about Annabel and her lord. I must be imagining it.
Beatrice sidled up between Mistress Eustacia and Annabel immediately.
“I can change the lord’s bandage tonight, Mistress Eustacia. I have some herbs that are very good for burns.”
Mistress Eustacia looked at the girl then shook her head. “Lord Ranulf is used to Annabel dressing his wound, and the lord is very picky, he is. You run along and get yourself to bed.”
“Please, Mistress Eustacia.” Beatrice had lowered her voice to a whisper so no one else would hear. “I have these special herbs. I told Lord le Wyse about them last night — I think he wants to try them.”
Mistress Eustacia didn’t say anything for a moment, then said firmly, “If you wish to leave your medicines for him, I will take them, but Annabel will do the dressing.”
Beatrice held the bags of herbs away from Eustacia’s reaching hand. “I’ll give them to him myself.” She turned and flounced out of the room.
Annabel looked at her mistress. “Last night she asked if she could bandage his arm. I don’t mind.”
“Nonsense. I will not have her … well, never mind. You do as I tell you and take care of Lord Ranulf’s arm. That’s a good girl.”
Annabel carried the stool toward Lord le Wyse, wondering how much of the exchange he had heard. She set about unwinding his bandage. As soon as she had taken it off, however, Beatrice came back into the room and hurried straight over to Lord le Wyse.
“My lord, I brought my mother’s herbs to put on your arm, just as I promised. Move over, Annabel.” She pushed Annabel’s shoulder, and Annabel stood, allowing Beatrice to plop herself down in her place. Lord le Wyse watched Annabel, a masked expression on his face, as Beatrice handed him a cup. “Drink this, my lord. It is my mother’s special drink made from herbs. And I will put this over the burn.”
Would Lord le Wyse allow Beatrice this liberty? Annabel watched as he seemed to sigh in resignation and allow Beatrice to lightly press some green leaves onto his arm.
“Here! What are you about?” Mistress Eustacia rushed over to the lord’s side. “What is that you’re doing?”
“It’s comfrey,” Beatrice stated stoutly, placing her hands on her hips. “It is good for burns. My mother said so.”
“It’s all right, Mistress.” Annabel intervened before Mistress Eustacia did harm to the girl. “Comfrey is indeed good for burns.” And we’ve been using it all along.
“Of course it’s good! It will make him well!” Beatrice’s cheeks were flushed pink. She plastered on a smile and looked at Lord le Wyse. “You will see, my lord.”
“Very well. And I suppose I must drink this?” He picked up the cup of steaming water.
“Yes, my lord.”
“All right, that’s all good and well, Beatrice.” Mistress Eustacia flapped her hands at her as though shooing a chicken. “You may go now. You’ve done your ministrations for one night.”
Beatrice stood, holding her head high in indignation. She turned to go, but then looked back at Lord le Wyse and smiled. “I only want to be of help. Please let me know if it helps, my lord. I will come whenever you need me.” She batted her eyes and lingered a moment, smiling down at him, then left, her nose stuck in the air.
Annabel could barely contain the giggle that tickled her throat.
Mistress Eustacia nodded to her. “Go on, lass. You can finish your task now.”
Annabel sat back down and proceeded to rewrap the bandage over the comfrey leaves Beatrice had spread over his arm. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lord le Wyse take a sip from the cup Beatrice had brought him. He scrunched his face as though tasting something bitter then set the cup back on the table beside him.
As expected after she finished, Lord le Wyse asked her if she would read to him.
“Yes, my lord.”
“You aren’t too tired?”
She shook her head. He was her lord and could order her to do anything, and she was obliged to do it. But he treated her more kindly than her own family. He wasn’t trying to force her to marry disgusting old Bailiff Tom and was even willing to protect her from him. She realized it wasn’t so bad to be here at the lord’s manor. She was working all day to pay her family’s debt, yes, but she was also able to read the Bible every night, which was what she wanted more than anything. The other girls, though they hadn’t accepted her as one of them, were more lively company than her mother and brothers.
Her servant status could almost be a blessing.
This thought surprised her. She’d felt abandoned by God, but maybe He had actually been taking care of her by sending her here.
She moved to one of the matching chairs before the fireplace and began to read. She read so long, in fact, that she glanced up to make sure Lord le Wyse was still awake. He hadn’t moved for quite a long time and his face was completely cast into shadow by the wing of the deep chair where he was reclined.
She thought about asking him a question to see if he was asleep, but she was afraid if she did he would ask her if she was ready to stop reading. And she wasn’t ready to stop. Even if he is asleep, what could it hurt to read further?
Coming to the end of the book of Saint John, she read, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
God wanted her to have peace. But how exactly would that peace come about?
“What are you thinking?” Lord Le Wyse’s gruff voice startled her, coming from the shadowy depths of his chair.
“I was wondering about peace and if our troubles draw us closer to God or push us further away from Him.”
Lord le Wyse roused himself to lean forward, gazing at her intently. It made her wonder if he’d been staring at her the entire time she’d been reading and she hadn’t been able to tell.
“Have you had many troubles?”
“No more than most.”
“Have they brought you closer to God?”
“When my father died, I prayed for hours every day, and it made me feel closer to God.” She waited, hoping he would say something about his own troubles. Though it was presumptuous to ask something personal of her lord, she decided to take the risk. “You have had much pain and sorrow, haven’t you, my lord?”
His face was a mask that stared past her. Finally he replied. “Yes. As much as most. My wife died, along with the child she had lately bore, during the outbreak of pestilence three years ago.”
“Oh, that is very sad. I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t look sad, he looked angry, as if he didn’t want her pity. “It was God’s will.”
“Do you think so?” Annabel felt dismayed. “Does God cause bad things to happen? Does the Bible say that?”
The familiar scowl came over his features. “Sometimes God metes out judgment here on earth instead of waiting until the afterlife.” A low growl came from his throat. He shook his head. “I don’t wish to talk about that.”
“Of course not, my lord. Forgive me for my presumption.”
He blew out a frustrated breath. “It is my own bitterness … It isn’t your fault. The truth is, the Bible says God ‘has compassion on all He has made,’ wanting all to come to him and be saved. And you may ask me anything you wish. What was your question? Do troubles bring us closer to God? The answer is yes, they do, but w
e must choose it. Otherwise, our troubles do just the opposite. They push us away from God. ‘Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.’ “
His voice had gradually softened with each word he spoke, until it was deep and rich, like the sound of thunder in the distance.
The words themselves were beautiful. The fact that Lord le Wyse knew those particular passages by heart made her think he had taken comfort from them, that he had allowed his pain and sorrow to draw him closer to God in the past. Father God, may he be reminded of the times that you comforted him.
“It is late,” he declared. “You should be abed.”
Annabel let him take the book from her. Their eyes met for a moment. She bid him good night, and as she went down to the undercroft, she was struck by the thought that, right now, tonight, she did feel at peace.
When Sunday came again, Annabel braced herself for seeing Sir Matefrid. Even so, she walked to the church with a light step, humming a lively tune she’d heard her father sing many times. Sir Matefrid’s words of doom and indecency and sin would hold no horrors for her today.
She knew what the Holy Writ said, and it was full of joyful words. While she knelt to pray, she meditated on the passages she and Lord le Wyse had been reading. Some whole sentences came to her, and she couldn’t help smiling. When she glanced up, she saw Maud and Beatrice staring at her suspiciously.
Perhaps it was irreverent to smile in church. She wasn’t sure, although she had a strong inclination to believe that God wouldn’t mind at all. After all, it was rather difficult to rejoice without smiling.
When the singing began, Annabel felt as though she were hearing the songs for the first time, or at least in a whole new way.
O come, Thou Dayspring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
Fairy Tale Romance Collection Page 41