Song of Isabel

by Ida Curtis

  All the time Jerome was speaking, Chetwynd stared at Isabel as her amazing courage began to sink in. She might appear helpless now, but she had fought against great odds and used her head to save herself.

  “No, we thought you were the outlaws,” Chetwynd answered Jerome, his eyes still on Isabel. “We’ve been searching the area all day.”

  “I’m so sorry I attacked you,” Isabel said, and even in her own ears her voice sounded pathetically weak.

  Being careful of her injuries, Chetwynd pulled her back into his arms. “Hush. I know you were trying to protect Jerome. I’m sorry you had to go through this ordeal. We’ll hear more of your tale at the convent. Now we need to get you and Jerome patched up and fed.”

  Over Isabel’s head, he looked at his squire. “You were there when Lady Isabel needed you, Jerome. I’ll never forget all you did.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  MARIANNA AND GILDA WERE PHYSICAL opposites. Marianna, tall and large boned, towered over the small, delicately featured nun. Despite their physical differences, they shared an open and friendly nature. When Chetwynd left the convent to search for Isabel, Marianna had been frantic with worry over what he might find. Gilda, who was used to helping women in distress, offered comfort. A bond of concern and caring quickly united the two women. By evening, they were strolling the courtyard arm in arm, telling each other they needed the exercise, but in truth keeping watch for new arrivals.

  It had become dark when they finally spotted Lady Isabel, riding in front of Chetwynd on his large war horse, coming through the gate of the convent. Chetwynd was reluctant to release his hold on his wife, but Marianna reached out with such eager tenderness that he passed Isabel into her care. Although greatly relieved by the sight of her mistress, on closer inspection Marianna was shocked to find her bruised and disheveled.

  In a large bedchamber reserved for special visitors, the two women worked together to bathe and feed Lady Isabel. Once the dirt was gone from her face and hands, her bruises showed up even more vividly.

  “These will fade in a few days,” Gilda pointed out to reassure Marianna as much as Isabel. “But they may blossom into some vivid colors before that happens.”

  Although dazed and sleepy upon her arrival at the convent, Isabel was revived by the thick soup Marianna brought for her, as well as her curiosity about Gilda. Chetwynd had introduced them when they arrived, but then she was rushed away to a bedchamber.

  “I didn’t know Chetwynd had a sister,” she said. She guessed that Gilda was about her own age and was eager to learn more about her.

  “And I didn’t know he had a wife,” Gilda said with a sparkle in her eye. “You should rest now, my lady, and we’ll talk later.”

  “Please, don’t go. I need to talk.”

  Gilda nodded. “Sometimes it helps to talk. Tell us what happened,” she urged, assuming Isabel wanted to tell them about her capture.

  The two women listened intently while Isabel gave them a quick outline of her capture and escape. But Isabel soon made it clear that she didn’t want to talk about herself.

  “How long has it been since you’ve seen Chetwynd, Gilda? Are there other brothers and sisters?”

  Although Jerome had given her a few details about Chetwynd as a leader of men, Isabel was hungry for more information about her husband. By turns he infuriated her by the distance he kept between them, and stirred her desire for him by some tender act.

  “I can’t believe you’re not collapsing with fatigue, Isabel. Are you sure you don’t want to lie quietly for a while? We can talk tomorrow.”

  “I’m too wakeful to settle down. It might help to talk a little,” Isabel pleaded. What she didn’t say was that she hoped Chetwynd would come to her, and she didn’t want to be asleep.

  The two caretakers exchanged looks. Marianna shrugged her shoulders to indicate they should indulge Isabel. Gilda began speaking in a soft voice, hoping to lull Isabel into sleep.

  “Chetwynd and I didn’t spend much time together growing up. But we have become close in recent years. Aachen is not far from here, and Chetwynd often stops at Saint Ives to visit. We have two brothers older than Chetwynd. They remain in Aquitania with my father to help with the estate they will inherit one day. Neither Chetwynd nor I have returned home for many years.”

  Marianna adjusted the blanket around Isabel’s shoulders and urged her to drink some water, while Gilda described the home she had left at an early age.

  Isabel watched Gilda as she spoke, looking for a resemblance to Chetwynd. As far as she could tell, they shared the same coloring. Although Gilda’s hair was covered by a dark veil, her skin was fair and her eyes a deep shade of blue. But she noticed that while Gilda had a serene countenance, Chetwynd’s expression was usually tense and alert.

  Closing her eyes, Isabel wondered if it was her vocation that gave Gilda her air of serenity. If she had listened to her father’s advice, she might also be living in a religious community. Gilda stopped speaking, hoping that Isabel had gone to sleep.

  Opening her eyes, Isabel said, “At one time my father urged me to become a nun.”

  “I’m not surprised. Marriage and the veil seem to be the only two options that fathers think about for their daughters.”

  “I might have considered it, but I was by nature opposed to any idea my father had for my future,” Isabel admitted. “How did you come to join the sisters of Saint Ives, Gilda?”

  “When I was ten years old, I came here to be educated. Chetwynd had been sent to a noble household for his education, but my father thought I would be safer in a convent, taught by nuns, until I was ready to marry. He was rather distressed to find I liked it here and wished to stay. When I was twelve, my father proposed a match with a wealthy landowner, but I was not the least bit interested.”

  Coming to a sitting position, Isabel interrupted her. “The same thing happened to me. I was supposed to marry when I was twelve.”

  “My lady sabotaged the match,” Marianna interjected with a beam of approval. “The man was old. Nowhere near as comely as Lord Chetwynd.”

  Gilda nodded her understanding. “The man my father chose for my future husband had lost his wife and needed help raising his young children. I begged to stay at Saint Ives for a few more years. Then at fourteen my father again tried to persuade me to marry. By that time I knew I never wanted to leave the convent. There was a terrible row, but my father finally accepted my decision.”

  “Did you experience a spiritual calling?” Isabel asked, thinking about her own lack of such feeling.

  “I don’t recall any divine revelation, if that’s what you mean. I was more attracted by the way of life at the convent. We’re not as isolated from the world as you might think. Since we’re near Aachen, the location of the king’s favorite palace, we have visitors almost every night.

  “Many of the children who come to us to be educated have families in various parts of the empire. From them we hear stories of family life in places as far away as Rome and Bordeaux. Children are very observant, and they love to tell each other tales. Their openness is delightful, and it’s a great joy to work with them.”

  Gilda’s expression became more serious. “There is also satisfaction in being a refuge for women who have no other place to go. In some cases their husbands have died; in others the wives have been abandoned.”

  Gilda stopped her story abruptly. “I’m talking too much. You really should rest, Lady Isabel.”

  “No. Please, go on.” Isabel was fascinated by Gilda’s tale. She had never met anyone like her. “Why are the women abandoned by their husbands?”

  “All right. Lie down. I’ll talk for a few more minutes if you promise to go to sleep.”

  Isabel thought those might be the words Gilda used often with the young girls she taught, and she nodded agreement.

  “The most common reason for abandonment is failure to bear children. We also shelter women who have been accused of adultery. Husbands are sometimes quick to seek a divorce for
either adultery or barrenness, especially if they have concubines who have borne them children.

  “In the cases where the husband obtains a divorce, the women are often set adrift. Through my acquaintance with these women, I have become somewhat of an ally in divorce cases. Last year when the bishops were deciding one particularly involved case, I was called to Aachen to give evidence.”

  “What happened?”

  “The count received his divorce. But I was able to secure a settlement for the wife. It worked out for the best, because it wasn’t a good marriage.”

  “Is it difficult to obtain a divorce?” Isabel asked.

  “Yes. The church doesn’t allow them often.”

  “How about an annulment?”

  Gilda paused, no doubt wondering if Isabel had a personal interest in the matter. “An annulment is fairly easy to obtain if the marriage has not been consummated.”

  Isabel nodded and rushed to change the subject. “Your vocation is certainly different from what I imagined, Gilda. I thought it would be a quiet life, spent in prayer. The opposite seems to be true. My life has been very sheltered by comparison.” When Gilda raised her eyebrows, Isabel smiled and added, “Well, at least until recently.”

  “Saint Ives is almost too worldly at times, especially for the nuns who seek a more spiritual vocation. But for me it’s exciting and satisfying. I suspect I have more independence than most wives.”

  Isabel thought about her marriage to Chetwynd. If it was annulled, life as a nun seemed a better alternative than making another match. She had begun to suspect that Chetwynd cared for her, but she couldn’t be sure how strong his feelings were, and he had made it clear he didn’t wish to be married.

  “I’m not sure how much Chetwynd has told you about our marriage, Gilda. It’s not a conventional match. I wished to leave Narbonne, and we married so that I could travel with the caravan.” Isabel decided not to speak further of Chetwynd’s reason for marrying her. “The marriage is to be annulled when it has served its purpose.” Isabel noticed Gilda’s eyes widen at her words.

  “I suspected there was something unusual in your hasty match, but I admit I wouldn’t have judged your marriage to have been based on convenience alone.”

  Isabel smiled and stared at the fire to avoid Gilda’s eyes.

  “I think exhaustion is taking its toll, Isabel. Things will look better in the morning. Just let me suggest that you not give up on Chetwynd. He was hurt by the first woman he loved, a situation that would make any man cautious.”

  Isabel was tired, but she couldn’t let Gilda’s casual comment go unquestioned. “What do you mean, Gilda?”

  “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “Please tell me.”

  Gilda sighed, sorry she had brought it up. Of course Isabel would want to know what happened. “Last story, Isabel. When Chetwynd was very young, he was in love with Theresa, a young woman who came to be educated at my father’s manor. I was only about ten and was still living at home. When Chetwynd went away to join the household of Count Jonas, he thought he had an understanding with Theresa that she would wait for him. While Chetwynd was away, my mother died. My father had his eye on Theresa, and he asked her father for her hand in marriage.

  “I expected Theresa to refuse the match, but she was young and ambitious. Chetwynd was a third son and not likely to have much of an inheritance. Theresa married my father. Maybe you can understand why he is slow to trust his feelings.”

  Isabel nodded and closed her eyes.

  “I think we have talked enough for one evening. Now it’s time for you to sleep, my dear. Marianna and I will sit by the fire in case you need anything.”

  “Thank you for telling me about Theresa, Gilda.”

  Although Isabel was bone-weary, she still couldn’t fall asleep. Gilda had urged her not to give up on Chetwynd, but Isabel knew his reluctance to take a wife went beyond his memory of Theresa. There was also the beautiful Queen Judith.

  Isabel wondered if Gilda knew about Chetwynd’s involvement with the queen. If she did, she hadn’t given any hint of that knowledge. Gilda had made it clear that her life at Saint Ives was not an isolated one, a fact that gave Isabel reason to suspect she knew about her brother’s latest love affair.

  Isabel had expected Chetwynd to come see her, which was one of the reasons she had fought going to sleep for so long. After finding her at the aqueduct, Chetwynd had been tender and loving, practically carrying her down the steep riverbank. When he judged her to be too tired to ride the horse they had brought for her, he mounted his and instructed Ingram to lift her up to ride in front of him. Isabel had almost objected to being declared too feeble to ride, but then realized she wanted to be as close as possible to Chetwynd.

  Isabel remembered the feel of Chetwynd’s arms around her waist and his strong thighs against the back of her legs. Although she had been cold at first, his body heat soon warmed her. In the saddle he was only slightly taller than she was, and he leaned his face against her hair. She had relaxed against his body, taking comfort from his heat, the dusty smell of his clothes, and the beat of his heart.

  They had traveled in silence, the motion of the horse soothing them while the growing darkness seemed to wrap around them, protecting them from the rest of the world. The sensation was so private and glorious that Isabel wanted their journey to go on forever.

  They had arrived at the convent much too soon to suit her. Although Chetwynd left her in the care of the women, she had been sure he would come by to see her. But perhaps she’d misjudged him, making more of his tenderness than he meant to convey. She pushed away the thought and concentrated on her memory of his body.

  UPON THEIR ARRIVAL AT THE CONVENT, CHETWYND experienced a strong urge to ride away with Lady Isabel. The hour he spent holding her close was the most contented hour he had spent in a long time. Nothing else seemed to matter but the woman he held cradled in his arms. As long as he held her, Isabel seemed safe and a part of his life.

  Although he hated giving up those feelings, he knew her injuries needed to be cared for, as she was both hurt and dirty. He would have preferred to tend to her himself, washing her body with warm water, feeding her some fresh fruit, and kissing her bruises. But he knew he had no right to indulge his fantasies. He had duties to attend to, and he could hardly deprive Marianna of the pleasure of nursing Isabel.

  Chetwynd had reluctantly released his hold on Isabel, promising himself he would get to the bottom of the danger which had threatened her life, and might still threaten her. Once separated, he felt like a part of him was missing, the part that gave him warmth and contentment.

  He consoled himself by turning to the other person he cared for and was concerned about. Like Isabel, Jerome was bruised and dirty, but he was also alert and hungry. It was quiet in the communal dining hall, as most of the nuns and their guests had retired. But food was quickly found for the returning men. Chetwynd and Ingram watched Jerome attack the meat and bread in front of him, while they picked at their own food, holding back the many questions they wanted to ask.

  Finally, Chetwynd could no longer restrain himself. “Tell me exactly how you found Lady Isabel.”

  “It was by chance, my lord,” Jerome replied, taking a long drink of cider to prepare himself to relate the story.

  “From atop the canyon, I was looking for a sign of the outlaws when some movement on the opposite hill caught my eye. I crossed the river and climbed the bank. I was careful to circle far away and above where I saw movement, my lord. From there I worked my way along until I was above the outlaws. I could hear one of them talking to Lady Isabel, so I knew she was there.”

  Once started, Jerome needed no further encouragement. “I planned to do what you said. Return to tell you.”

  Jerome knew Chetwynd expected his men to follow orders. He rushed on. “Before I could get away, I saw one of the men was leaving. I didn’t want to meet up with him. I had found a hiding place, so I waited until he had a good start. By that time it
had become dark. I was ready to leave when I heard something. I was afraid I had been found out. Imagine my surprise when I spotted Lady Isabel climbing toward me.” He shook his head as though he still couldn’t believe it.

  “You already told us how she managed to free herself. Why didn’t you try to return then?” Chetwynd prompted.

  “The outlaws were searching for her. I pushed her into the hiding place. The outlaws came nearby several times. We hid in the dark hole and prayed they wouldn’t stumble on us. They didn’t know Lady Isabel had help. Maybe they thought she fell in the river and drowned.”

  Jerome must have observed Chetwynd’s involuntary grimace at this possibility, so he hurried on. “Lady Isabel knew better than to head for the river. We stayed hiding during the night, waiting for daylight. I would have returned as you ordered me, but I didn’t think it best. I’m sorry you had to be worried about her for so long.”

  Chetwynd was aware that Jerome was watching to see what his response would be. “I was worried about both of you. But you did right, as I’m sure you know. To do otherwise would have put Lady Isabel in danger. No one with any sense obeys orders when it’s obvious that circumstances have changed. Now go on. Can you tell us anything about the outlaws?”

  Jerome relaxed and continued. “They were dressed poorly, almost in rags. But I suspect that was a disguise. Their horses were tied outside the cave, and I saw that they were strong and in good shape. I crawled close enough to see that the saddles were of fine leather and well-made. I doubt they were poor men, my lord.”

  “What about their age or other distinguishing marks?” Ingram asked.

  “I didn’t get close enough to see the men as they retreated to a cave. Lady Isabel can tell you more. Nothing gets by her. She figured out the wine was drugged and didn’t drink it.” His eyes were shining with admiration as he spoke.