by Nerys Jones
Godiva came to the door of the priory next morning at a much earlier hour than Edwin expected, looking as if she should have stayed in bed, but couldn’t get any rest. He pulled back the bar on the door and almost pulled her into his arms, weeping copiously as he did so.
‘Oh, my beloved lady!’ he cried. ‘I know! I know! There will be some dreadful penance imposed on you. I have been told already. Messengers are here from the new bishop, telling me to assist you in all ways. But no one has told me what the penance is for, or what it will be.’
Godiva described the events at Egg Ring and then turned to the matter at hand. ‘We must get on with the arrangements, Edwin. I must get this penance over with as quickly as possible, in case Lovric comes back and stops it, and lets Coventry go to hell. And for the health of my soul. The thought of it presses on me night and day like a boulder, so that I can hardly breathe at times.’ She crossed herself. ‘Can you suggest a date?’
He tried to remember his instructions. The bishop-knight had said the penance should take place two weeks after he left Coventry. If he could finalize the date with her now, the bishop and his attendant would leave today – and he could have his room and his bed and Cherub to himself again, at least for a little longer.
‘It can’t be in less than two weeks from tomorrow,’ he said.
‘What? I can’t go on that long with this horror hanging over me.’
‘I’m sorry, but for liturgical reasons it can’t be any sooner. Saints’ days, and so on. We can’t have this shameful parade taking place while the monks are processing to and from the town cross and around the priory precincts. As for Lovric, he never returns quickly once he has ridden west.’
Gloom settled on Godiva and she said nothing for a while.
‘Very well,’ she said at last. ‘In two weeks. I will pray constantly between now and then, and fast on bread and water.’
‘Oh no,’ Edwin said, alarmed. ‘Only fast on the day before the penance. These rituals of humiliation are more of a shock than anyone realizes. You must be strong for this awful ride.’
‘There is another matter. The king decrees that you must address the townspeople from your pulpit on the Sunday before my penance. You should get a letter to that effect soon.’
Edwin bit his lip, remembering the sealed scroll that had been tossed at him last night before he went to sleep, and which he had not bothered to look at.
‘You are to tell them the day and hour of my ride. And that I will be naked.’
‘What? Good God! Me? I must say that?’
‘Yes. And you must explain that this is my penance, which will be accepted by the king as a substitute for the taking of heregeld, which was going to be imposed on them because of the sins of all their lords, the members of the House of Lovric. Then they must be told the time of my ride. It will start when the priory’s bell is tolled at the hour when the market commences. The bell ringer must keep tolling the bell until I arrive. I’m sure you’ll get a letter setting out these details.’
‘Oh great God!’ Edwin exclaimed again, jumping up from his seat and pacing about. ‘I can’t believe that I have to play any part in this awful business. No one said anything . . .’
‘Why should they?’ Godiva asked sharply. ‘Have you had something to do with my misfortunes, prior?’
‘Of course not!’ he spluttered. ‘But there were rumours. I knew of the king’s anger. I knew of many things. Harry, for example. Monks love to gossip between prayers. But believe me,’ he said, placing his hand on the cross that dangled from his neck, ‘I knew nothing about this damned penance the king has dreamed up.’
‘What did you expect? Some other kind of pain perhaps?’
‘I thought, perhaps . . .’ He began to cough and then stumbled on, saying nothing very coherent until Godiva put up her hand.
‘Stop it. I don’t want to know what you thought a few weeks ago. That was a time when you hated me. Don’t think I didn’t know. I saw it, but I let it pass and hoped that you would find it in you to be my ally here in Coventry. I thought you had, in fact. But that was all pretence, wasn’t it? Still, I don’t really care, Edwin. You are the least of my disappointments. Whatever you did is by the way now. We are in this plight together and that is all we need to think about.’
He felt a strong desire to abase himself at her feet, so great was the rush of relief and self-disgust that swept through his veins at being forgiven. He fell to his knees and kissed her limp hand. She let him mumble his thanks repeatedly, while she grew ever more certain that he had played some part in her downfall.
‘There is one more thing you must do for me. Write to my dear friend, the Abbess of Evesham, and explain my position. I intend to stay with her after the penance for several weeks, or perhaps longer. Now,’ she announced, rising and moving towards the door. ‘I will not see you again before the penance. Pray for me each night and day until then. No, don’t get up and see me out. I know the way out of my own priory.’
The door, as it shut behind her, carried towards the prior a small rush of air on which there hung the summer scents of lavender, honey and thyme. Edwin slumped in a chair beside the fire, inhaled the fading sweetness of her presence and stared into the flames, letting his tears fall unchecked down his slackened cheeks and onto his soft, pink hands.
The manor was still quiet as Godiva stabled May, her small workaday pony, herself. As she gave her a quick brush and a pat on the forehead in thanks for the dawn ride, the other horses stirred and gave soft snorts of greeting to their favourite rider, the one who always seemed to know what they needed and what they liked most. She turned at the door to the stable and looked back into the dark, pungent interior at the animals she loved so much. One of these would have to bear her to her Calvary. It would have to be a big, strong horse that knew her well, and that would not get nervous when she failed to give clear signals, or if she trembled or cried. Then it came to her. She would ride naked on Starlight, her only white horse, and the one she had usually ridden through the forest to Bret. God, if he were watching, would know what that meant.
She crossed the yard and entered the kitchen of the manor house. Quietly, so as to let the household sleep on, she poured herself a small cupful of yesterday’s souring milk and sat at a work table to sip it slowly. Overnight, she had made up her mind. The penance was going to be a kind of death. Nothing would ever be the same afterwards. Lovric would never reconcile with her, and neither would Milly. Any hopes of making St Mary’s into a great cult centre for pilgrims would be dashed by the lewd image that her name would evoke. As for herself, she might stay on permanently at Evesham after the penance. She could put her estates under management, even perhaps give them all to St Mary’s – though not with Edwin holding the priorship. She got up and poured a little more milk into the mug. She had many preparations to make and the acidic milk was beginning to invigorate her. Where should she start? Obviously, with putting her own house in order. The brass gong was on the table in front of her. She picked up the copper-headed maple mallet that had been under Gwen’s control before her illness, and paused. When she struck the gong with it and called her people together, there would be no going back. The penance would begin now.
Odo, who had been called to the stables, had just arrived there when he heard the sound of the gong reverberate across the yard. He wondered if he should join in the meeting of the household that it announced. Strictly speaking he belonged in the hall and had no business in the manor house, but these were not ordinary times. He fondled the ear of the nervous horse that he had been asked to inspect and asked the groom his opinion.
‘This be one of her ladyship’s,’ said the boy, ‘I know him even though his breastplate been taken off, and all his tack. Look like someone was readying him for a poleaxe to the head.’
Odo examined the stallion carefully. ‘He’s been hurt,’ he agreed. ‘There’s a gash at the neck. Some fool thought he could just slit his throat. He must have put up a fight and bolted. When did
you find him?’
‘Night watchman brought him in, in the small hours. Him not wanting to frighten the other horses, he put him in the guest stable, to let him calm down on his own. Terrible state he were in, shivering and rolling them eyes like he was going mad. Calmed down now, though. Look,’ he said, putting a crab apple in the palm of his hand and extending it towards the horse’s mouth. ‘Eat up, Blackberry,’ he said, and the horse made a quick, careful nip at the apple.
‘Blackberry? Who used him?’ Odo asked, though he already had a good idea.
‘Bret, sir, and no one else.’ The boy paused. ‘Blackberry been gone since last night and no one seen Bret since then, neither. I asked around.’
‘Right,’ said Odo, digesting this news.
‘Odo!’ Agatha stood at the door, panting. ‘Come at once! Come to the manor house. Mistress wants you at the meeting.’
As soon as they were beyond the stable boy’s hearing, Odo stopped.
‘Agatha,’ he whispered. ‘I’m thinking you know more than you let on about Bret. Tell me now.’
‘I can’t tell you that here, in the yard,’ she protested. ‘Just that he’s no good.’
‘And mistress loves him?’
Agatha said nothing and turned away.
‘Well, Bret’s gone,’ Odo said.
‘Run away from the manor?’
‘Worse. His horse been found injured. Looks like someone wanted to destroy it. I reckon Bret be killed.’
Agatha felt the bag of coins that nestled against her skin catch fire. She clutched her throat and tried to move the bag away from her heart.
‘Will you tell mistress?’ Odo implored. ‘Break the news to her?’
‘No! Listen to me, Odo. Let mistress think Bret ran away because he loved her too much and was afraid of making trouble for her.’
‘She’ll find out . . .’
‘Not if you get rid of that horse. Get someone to take him out to the marshes and turn him loose where there be wild ponies to lure him into the forest. If that be done tonight, mistress won’t hear no stories about him. As for Bret’s body – if there be a body and he didn’t just get rid of his horse to fool us – it may be far from here. And what with the roads closed to most folk on account of the cattle plague, it could be a long time before we hear tell of him.’
‘Are you sure?’ Odo asked.
‘Yes,’ Agatha said. ‘All this trouble be too much for any mortal soul, even mistress.’
Odo grunted assent, and together they crossed the yard to the meeting that was now assembling in the manor house. As she walked, Agatha made a quick, silent prayer: Oh, Mother Mary, bless my lies. And make me good again when time be right.
Fifteen
As the gong rang out, the manor’s main room filled quickly with servants. Even Milly felt she should attend, and Gwen had come limping in from the sick-room. Godiva stood before them all, wearing a dull black dress that she only ever wore at funerals. With no jewellery and with her long, newly greying plait hanging down one shoulder, she resembled an ageing maiden. The effect was worse than funereal; she seemed to be dying on her feet before their eyes.
‘My people,’ she began. ‘I have good news and bad. I know you have heard rumours that the king intended to raid our barns and our money-chests to wring heregeld from us. I went to see him at Egg Ring in the parish of Cleley and heard his accusations against the House of Lovric, and against me. He agreed to forego the heregeld if I underwent a penance. I have agreed to this.’
A great murmur of protest broke out. Over in the corner Milly, thinking of her marriage plans, felt her knees buckle as she leaned against the wall. Suddenly she pulled herself together and pushed her way angrily out of the room.
‘Quiet!’ Godiva commanded. ‘There is no alternative. I have to comply. The penance will take place in two weeks, on market day. I will tell you what I must undergo on the night before the penance. Not now. In the meantime, I want to make arrangements for the continuation of the life of the manor when I am not here any more.’
‘Not here? What do you mean?’ someone shouted.
‘After the penance I intend to go to the convent at Evesham to pray for my own soul’s health.’
‘But will you come back to us?’
‘Yes,’ Godiva said firmly. ‘But now I must talk to you all in turn. I will start with Odo. The rest of you, get back to work. Life must go on. Foodstuffs must be preserved and stored. Cleaning. Cooking. Spinning and weaving. All the usual work. Off with you now.’
They scattered quickly and Godiva sat down with Odo. ‘It is up to you to handle the men of the hall,’ she began. ‘On the Tuesday night, when I disclose what I have to do to the people of the manor, I want you to call the men of the hall together and inform them. I could not face them and tell them about it myself.’
Odo stared at her, unable to respond. Then he nodded silently.
‘I also want you to be my voice in the hall. Tell them I am sure that Lovric will return. Also, tell them it is not his fault – this penance I must undergo. I must be sure they remain loyal. If we start to lose the few armed men we have, the manor will be vulnerable to robbers. Can I count on you?’
‘Yes, mistress,’ he mumbled, tongue-tied by his knowledge of Bret.
‘And one thing more. Is it possible that your son . . .’
‘Wulf?’
‘Yes. Could you bring him back to the manor?’
‘Oh, yes indeed. What Wulf want, mistress, more than anything on Earth except one thing, is to train in arms. He don’t like farming and he be no good at it neither. If you could see fit . . .’
‘Yes, he can come to the hall. But I won’t be able to pay him the right wage for several months.’
‘That don’t matter, mistress,’ Odo said, a smile creasing his wary face. ‘But may I ask why?’
‘Agatha should have a better life than growing old as a maiden servant. She loves Wulf.’
‘And he love her,’ said Odo, smiling broadly. ‘I had to push the boy on to the cart to make him leave Cheylesmore.’
For the first time in many days, Godiva smiled too. ‘Send Agatha to me now.’
Odo bowed his head and left. A few minutes later, Bertha announced herself.
‘Agatha be down the dairy counting the cheeses,’ she said. ‘Can mistress talk to me next?’
‘Why is Agatha counting cheeses? I gave no orders.’
‘It were my idea, mistress. We be putting away a lot of cheese for the winter, but folk in the town have no milk at all now. The last milch cow down there was culled while you was in Cleley. We can afford to let them have half our cheese and butter, mistress. After all, we be getting by well on half of everything else and I don’t hear none complaining of hunger.’
Godiva, who had never suspected any kindness in Bertha, looked at her curiously. ‘Was this your idea?’
‘Yes, mistress, I saw famine once before. My baby sister died and my father left home. I never forgot what hunger can do.’ A shadow crossed her face and she continued in a half-whisper, her voice cracking with shame. ‘Mother sold herself to passing drovers to get us food, and father wouldn’t take her back after that. Hunger works evil more powerful than the Devil.’
‘Let us not talk of the Devil now,’ Godiva said, crossing herself.
‘Yes, mistress. He be too close these days.’
‘Bertha,’ Godiva said, trying to sound brisk, ‘you can be in charge of halving the dairy produce and getting it into town at the same times each week. We’ll inform the town crier when you have decided these matters.’
‘Anything else, mistress?’
‘Yes. I will be getting rid of most of my clothes. The good ones . . .’
‘No, lady,’ Bertha wailed. ‘All the work that went into them! And how beautiful they be, and you in them.’ She started to cry.
‘Hush. I won’t ever go feasting again. Not even if Lovric comes back here to Coventry. I won’t be able to.’
Bertha’s brows shot up
, but Godiva gazed out of the window and kept on talking about practical matters.
‘I will offer them to Milly. If she refuses, I will offer them to the convent in Evesham.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Bertha muttered, hating the thought of those lovely gowns, which had been her babies, now going to other women.
‘And I will choose from the simpler gowns, two each for you and Agatha. There, I have no more to say. Send Gwen to me now, and tell Agatha to be here soon.’
Soon after Bertha left, still wiping tears from her eyes, Gwen entered, leaning on a walking stick. She held her head on one side and there was a slight curl to her lip that was quite out of character. Godiva got up and embraced her, then sat down close to her to talk about their problems.
‘I had a stroke,’ Gwen admitted. ‘But not a big one, and the nurse was very good, exercising me each day and giving me porridge and puddings until I could swallow again on my own.’
‘Are you clean?’ Godiva asked tactfully.
‘I am now, thank God. But I have this ugly snarl on my face all the time, even when I am happy. I never look in a mirror no more. But then, no use complaining, I can use both hands to work again, though my right arm and leg are weak.’
‘I don’t want you to work any more. You have done enough for two lifetimes and you deserve to rest now. Gwen dear, after my penance I want you to come with me to the convent at Evesham. I will need a personal attendant and Agatha is too young to go off to a nunnery. All that praying would make her melancholy and start thinking of taking vows.’