A Memory of Love

by Bertrice Small

  "Is there a choice in the matter?" Rhonwyn said.

  "Nay, there is not," the abbess told her.

  "Then I am willing, and will do my duty" came the cool reply..

  "You have much to learn, my child," the abbess said.

  "Then teach me," Rhonwyn answered.

  The abbess turned to her brother. "Tell Edward de Beaulieu that his bride is finishing her education at Mercy Abbey and will leave here in early April for Haven Castle. A messenger will arrive before her to announce her coming, but she will be there before midmonth. He may prepare for the marriage ceremony then, and you will bring your daughter to him yourself. It is unlikely your future son-in-law will object to this arrangement. He may have some small pursuits and matters to clear up before a bride can come to him." She smiled suddenly at him. "This favor will cost you dearly, Llywelyn."

  "I know," he responded wearily.

  She chuckled. "I shall make a list of my demands, none of which are negotiable, brother."

  He nodded. "Whatever you want, Gwyn," he said.

  The abbess turned again to her niece. "Your first lesson, my child, is in how to address me. When I speak to you, you will conclude your answer with the words my lady abbess. Do you understand, Rhonwyn?"

  "Aye, my lady abbess" came the reply.

  The nun smiled. "Excellent!"

  I like her, Rhonwyn thought to herself. She understands me as no one ever has understood me.

  The abbess reached out, picked up a small bell on the table and rang it. Almost immediately another woman, dressed in the same fashion, entered the room.

  "Yes, my lady abbess?"

  "This is my niece, Sister Catrin. She will be staying with us for the next few months, preparing for her marriage to the lord of Haven Castle. She is a true innocent, raised in an isolated place by a group of pagans. Give her a chamber in the guest house. Rhonwyn, you will stay there until I send for you. Bid your father farewell now, my child.

  Rhonwyn turned to the prince and bowed politely. "My lord."

  "I shall return for you in the spring," he said.

  Rhonwyn laughed wickedly. "Will you, my lord? I certainly hope so."

  The abbess's lips twitched with amusement as she saw the color flood her brother's face.

  "This is different, Rhonwyn," he told her through gritted teeth. "This is a matter of my honor."

  Rhonwyn nodded her head slightly in acknowledgment, and then followed Sister Catrin from the abbess's receiving chamber.

  "She has your temper," Gwynllian remarked, amused.

  "I hope you will find it as humorous when you must deal with her," he shot back. "Now write your damned list of demands, sister."

  "On reflection I realize it is not necessary to write a list. I can tell you exactly what I want. First, you will pay the expenses for your daughter's schooling. We are not a rich house. You will go to Hereford and purchase a generous supply of fine materials so we may garb her properly for her marriage and subsequent life. You will take a pattern of her feet and have proper shoes made for her. You will purchase veils, gloves, a good jeweled girdle, as well as some small but fine pieces of jewelry. She is your daughter, Llywelyn, and if you are the prince of Wales, then the lady Rhonwyn is a noblewoman of the first ranking.

  "And while you are in Hereford, you will go to the Convent of Saint Mary, on the east side of the town. They are a very small house and always in great financial distress, I am informed. They possess a saint's relic that 1 want, brother, for this abbey. It is a fingernail paring from St. Cuthbert himself and is kept in a bejeweled golden box on the altar in their church. Pay what you must, but bring me that relic, Llywelyn."

  "You want me to go into England and negotiate for a saint's relic with a nun? Before or after I purchase lovely fabrics, fine pieces of jewelry, and the other geegaws you desire for my daughter?" he snapped. "Name your price, Gwynllian, and I will pay it, but I will not go myself! I have much work to do keeping the peace."

  "You will have no peace, brother, if you do not deliver your daughter to be wed to the Englishman; and you cannot bring her to them as she is. They would refuse her, and say you had insulted them and compromised the treaty. We are not so isolated here that I do not know Prince Edward will prove a dangerous enemy to you once he is king. I told you there would be no negotiation between us in this matter. Rhonwyn may remain here while you go and bargain for my relic, O prince of Wales. When you return with it, I will begin her tutelage, but not a moment before then." She drew herself up to her full height and stared directly at him. "The longer you delay, Llywelyn, the less time I have to turn this mutton you have brought me into a sweet little lambkin."

  "You are the damnedest woman," he complained to her. "You always were impossible, Gwyn, and I suspect that Rhonwyn is just like you." He laughed. "Very well, I will go myself and dicker for your saint's discarded fingernail. If necessary," he told her darkly, "I will steal it, but you shall have it, sister, and then you must keep your part of our bargain."

  "Do not steal it, Llywelyn," she warned him sternly. "If you do, I cannot display it. I am not capricious in my desire for this relic. I would draw pilgrims to Mercy Abbey to ask the saint's blessing. Such a relic will prove profitable to us."

  "It did not to St. Mary's in Hereford," he remarked.

  "That is because they could claim no great miracles of it," the abbess replied with a small smile. "I am certain the saint's fingernail paring will be more content with us and work to the glory of God and Mercy Abbey, brother. In fact, I sense it in my heart."

  He laughed roughly. "You are a devious woman, Gwynllian, and I thank God you were not born a man. Owain, Daffydd, and Rho-dri, our brothers, were easy opponents, but you, sister, would have been stronger than all three of them. I am not surprised you are abbess here."

  She smiled archly at him. "Always remember, Llywelyn, that I am your equal. Our brothers were not."

  "Are these all your demands?" he asked.

  "I will also want a virile young ram, twenty ewe sheep, and a bag with a donation of ten gold coins. I will take either bezants, ducats, or florins, but their weight must be true. Make certain none of the coins has been clipped. These are all my requirements," she finished. Her dark eyes were dancing with pleasure at his look.

  "You will beggar me, sister! The sheep I can obtain, but where the hell am I going to get so much gold for you? It is too much!"

  "No negotiation, Llywelyn," she reminded him.

  He swore a particularly vile oath, and the abbess laughed as he glared at her.

  "1 haven't heard those words in many years, brother," she mocked him. "I had almost forgotten they existed."

  "My daughter had better be able to compete with any princess alive when this is over and done with, sister," he warned her.

  "She will," the abbess promised. Then she softened a bit. "It is already dark, brother. May I offer you and your men shelter for the night?"

  "Nay," he snapped. "If I stay a moment longer with you I may be tempted to kill you, Gwynllian. There is a moon. We'll ride on. I said my farewell to Rhonwyn, and now I bid you adieu." He bowed briefly, and then stamped from the receiving chamber.

  The abbess smiled softly as the door closed behind her brother. His brief visit had proved highly fortuitous for the abbey. He would do all she had asked him because he needed Rhonwyn for a treaty bride. Then Gwynllian grew more thoughtful. It was an enormous task she had been set, and she had to complete it successfully. Then suddenly she realized her brother had not taken Rhonwyn's foot pattern. Ringing for a nun, she sent the woman quickly after her brother so he could complete the task and get her niece decent shoes in Hereford.

  She glided from her receiving room and across the abbey quadrangle to the guest house. There she found Sister Catrin seated with Rhonwyn. She dismissed the nun and joined the girl by the brazier.

  "Well, he's gone. I've exacted a very high price from him for my help. You are going to have to work very hard, my child." She chuckled. "I could alwa
ys get the better of your father and our other brothers. You know none of them, do you?"

  "Nay, my lady abbess. At Cythraul, Morgan told me that the prince had overthrown and imprisoned his elder brother, Owain, and his younger brother, Daffydd. The youngest brother, Rhodri, is not an ambitious man, it was said. He sounds like my brother, Glynn."

  "If Wales is to be united, there can be but one ruler," the abbess answered her niece. "Your father finds it hard bowing his knee to any, even almighty God. He only knelt to the English because by doing so he obtained what he wanted."

  "There is no shame in that," Rhonwyn considered.

  The abbess chuckled. "You are a practical lass, I see. That is to the good. I told your father I would do nothing to help you until he fulfilled his word to me, but that is not true, although he will believe it, having never caught me in a lie. You have so much to learn that we must begin tomorrow if we are to have any chance of passing you off as a noblewoman in six months' time. Llywelyn will do what he must for me. Now tell me, child, you have never had any women companions?"

  "Not since Mam died," Rhonwyn answered her aunt. She looked about the little hall of the guest house. "Am I to stay here alone, my lady abbess? I have never been alone before."

  Gwynllian shook her head. "I have two young postulants with us right now who are near your age. They will come and make their beds with you, Rhonwyn, so you will not be by yourself. They must, of course, attend to their own duties during the day, but you will be busy with your studies. They will share your chamber; you will eat together in the refectory with the community; and you may take walks in the gardens. We do not have a school like some other convents, so you will he unique as a student, my child."

  "What of my horse?" Rhonwyn asked.

  "It is salely in the stables. Do well at your studies, and I will permit you to rule it," the abbess said.

  "But Hardd needs his exercise, my lady abbess!" Rhonwyn protested.

  "You may walk him daily belore your lessons, my child, but there will be no riding unless you progress in your duties," the abbess said. Then she held up her hand to prevent the further protest she saw on Rhonwyn's lips. "One of your first lessons is obedience, which means doing what you are told by your superiors. You obeyed Morgan ap Owen because he was your captain or superior. You must obey me for the same reason, my child. Obedience and good manners can cover a multitude of other sins, Rhonwyn. You have been raised in a community of rough men. I know they had good hearts, for I can see you miss them, and you would not had they been unkind; but soldiers are not the best example for a young girl to follow. Come with me now, and we will go to the refectory to have something to eat. Tonight I will excuse you and the companions I have chosen for you from Compline, but beginning tomorrow you will attend mass daily." Then she patted Rhonwyn's hand. "You know nothing of God and our dear Lord Jesus, do you, my child? This is all very confusing, I can see. Do not be afraid of your innocence and your ignorance, Rhonwyn. You will quickly learn, I promise you. You are an intelligent girl, and your mind, I already see, is facile."

  For the first time in her life Rhonwyn found herself uncertain and retiring. She followed her aunt from the guest house to the refectory, which she quickly learned was a place where the nuns dined. The women who lived in this abbey were called nuns. They were also called Sister, except her aunt who was Reverend Mother or my lady abbess. And the nuns were ranked according to the position they held within the community.

  Her companions, Elen and Arlais, were called postulants and were the lowest on the abbey's social scale, being considered candidates for the religious order. The novices, and there were five of them currently, had completed their year's training as postulants and now were spending the next two years preparing to take their final vows. The vows were those of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Rhonwyn knew what poverty and obedience meant. Chastity, she learned, was a promise to remain pure, which meant no going beneath a hedge with a man or doing what her father used to do with her mother.

  The nuns devoted their lives to God, the supreme being. She hadn't heard enough of God at Cythraul to make any sense of him. Now her new companions, Elen and Arlais, spent their evenings teaching Rhonwyn as they would have taught their children had they wed instead of entering the abbey. They found Rhonwyn rather fascinating, never having known anyone like her before, but they also treated her with respect, for she was the abbess's niece and the prince's daughter. Elen and Arlais were the daughters of freedmen who farmed their own land. The three girls got on rather well despite their dissimilar backgrounds.

  Rhonwyn went with her companions to the early church services of the day, Prime, at six o'clock in the morning, and Tierce, the high mass, at nine o'clock in the morning. She attended Vespers before nightfall, but was excused from the other five canonical hours. After Prime she broke her fast in the refectory with oat porridge in a small bread trencher and apple cider. She then sat with Sister Mair until Tierce, practicing how to write both letters and numbers. Sister Mair did the lettering on the illuminations the abbey sold to noble households.

  After Tierce, Rhonwyn studied with her aunt, learning Latin and the Norman tongue. To the abbess's delight her niece had a facility for languages other than the Welsh tongue and learned far more quickly than she had hoped. Within a month Rhonwyn was reciting the Latin prayers in the church services she attended as if she had been doing it all her life. And she was beginning to read as well. Her ability with the Norman tongue was equally swift, and Rhonwyn was soon conversing in that language on a daily basis with her aunt both in and out of the classroom.

  Gwynllian uerch Gryffydd gave thanks before the altar of the church daily for her nieces progress. It was truly miraculous. Alter the midday meal Rhonwyn joined Sister Una in the kitchens so she might see bow meals were planned and prepared. Here her progress was not as quick, and Sister Una complained to the abbess that her niece could burn water. The infirmarian, Sister Dicra, was kinder, for her new pupil seemed to have a knack for healing and concocting the potions, salves, lotions, syrups, and teas needed to cure a cough or make a wound heal easier.

  "The lass has a healing touch, Reverend Mother," Sister Dicra said enthusiastically.

  "She'll need it to cure the bellyaches she's going to give with her cooking," Sister Una remarked dryly.

  "She doesn't need to know how to cook," the abbess said, "just how it should be done. The castle will have its own cook. Have you taught her how to make soap for both clothing and skin yet?"

  "We begin tomorrow," Sister Una replied. "I hope she has more of a knack for that."

  The abbess turned to Sister Braith. "How is she coming with her weaving, embroidery, and sewing skills, my sister?"

  "Slowly," answered the nun. "Rhonwyn has little patience, as you know. She finds sewing and embroidery foolish. Weaving, however, seems to calm her. She says there is a logic to it," chuckled Sister Braith. "I have shown her how to spin, and she seems to like that quite well."

  They were progressing. Slowly in some areas, faster in others, the abbess thought silently. "The fabrics have arrived from Hereford," she told her companions. "We shall have to fill Rhonwyn's bridal chest ourselves if it is to get done."

  "And the relic?" Sister Winifred inquired.

  "My brother sends word he has obtained it at great cost. He is bringing it to us himself."

  The prince arrived several days later, accompanied only by two of his men. He handed the bejeweled gold box to his sister. "Twenty gold florins, this cost me," he growled at her. "The mother superior at St. Mary's-in-the-Gate ought to be hawking maidenheads, she haggled so closely with me. It had better be worth it, Gwynllian."

  "Would you like to see your daughter?" the abbess asked him as she stroked her prize.

  "You have begun, then?" he said eagerly, visibly relieved.

  "Of course," she told him. "There was no choice if we are to be ready by spring, Llywelyn." She reached for the bell on the table and rang it, instructing the nun who answered he
r call to fetch the lady Rhonwyn at once.

  Llywelyn ap Gruffydd gaped in surprise for a moment as his daughter entered the room. She was garbed in a graceful deep blue gown with long, tight sleeves and girded at the waist with a simple twisted gold rope. Her pale gilt hair was beginning to grow out. It was clean and almost to her shoulders now. On her head she wore a simple chaplet with fresh flowers. She bowed to her aunt first and then to her father.

  "You sent for me, my lady abbess?" she asked.

  "Your father wished to see you before he departed, my child," Gwynllian answered quietly.

  "She's speaking in the Norman tongue!" ap Gruffydd said excitedly.

  "I am learning, my lord. I am told this is the language the English use, although there is another," Rhonwyn replied.

  "Aye, but what you're learning is what you'll need." The prince turned to his sister. "The transformation is amazing! Are you certain she isn't ready to go yet?"

  "Nay, Llywelyn, she most certainly is not!" the abbess said. "Do not be in such a hurry. This is small progress, and we have much more to do, not to mention a wardrobe to sew. You cannot take her until the spring. Come on her birthday. Unless, of course, in the meantime, she decides to become one of us," the abbess teased her brother.

  "God forbid!" the prince cried.

  Rhonwyn laughed. "I lave no fear, my lord, this life your sister my aunt leads is not for me. I will be ready to do my duty when you return for me in April."

  "Bid your farewell, Rhonwyn, and then you are dismissed," Gwynllian said.

  "Adieu, my lord," Rhonwyn told him, bowing again, then she departed the room.

  "She never calls you Tad," Gwynllian remarked softly.

  "The lad does," he returned. "Rhonwyn holds me responsible for her mam's death. She has never liked me, sister. With the logic of a child she wanted her mam all to herself, and she resented it each time I came to visit my fair Vala. She has never gotten over it, I fear, but it matters not as long as she respects and obeys me."