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Chapter One
A land by the sea
The Middle Ages
Matilda fully interpreted the meaning behind the Abbess’s flared nostrils and frown lines. It was an expression of abject disgust. The old nun, her wimple entombing her head like a white coffin, slapped Matilda’s face hard. The only other person present slipped away into the shadowy recesses, his black garb aiding his escape.
The Abbess’s lips trembled with rage and fear. “You will never tell a soul what happened here.”
Why would Matilda? What possible reason would she have for telling anyone what she had done in the vestry?
Matilda hung her head and knelt with her palms pressed together. “Gracious Lord, I beg for forgiveness for my poor judgement. Reverend Mother, I have committed no carnal sin. I placed my faith in one who I should not have trusted—”
“You lie,” the Abbess shrieked. “He would not have been tempted if you had kept your skirts by your ankles. I shall have you thrashed. We have a bench set aside for just such a punishment. The birch will drive out the evil in your heart.” Father Mark had made similar claims, but not while using a birch.
“My father—”
“Will banish you.”
Matilda looked up and fluttered her long eyelashes. “He’s very rich. Wouldn’t you prefer to keep my annuity, Reverend Mother?”
“You despicable creature.” However, the Abbess stepped back from striking Matilda again. Matilda had not taken any vows of chastity and was free to come and go. “This is how it will be... you will leave, tonight, and I shall write to your father, telling him of your unsuitability as a postulant. You’re nothing like your sister; she’s an excellent novice. He will atone for your sin with a dowry to be repaid annually.”
A saintly sister and a father who liked to bribe his way through life. Matilda’s family were well-known. “And Father Mark?”
“Will no longer hear mass at St. Winifred’s. I shall request another priest from the bishop’s diocese to conduct our services.”
Good, thought Matilda. If he had tempted her into committing wicked acts, what of the other novices and nuns he had ruined with his silvery tongue and nefarious greed? Unfortunately, she was the one who had been caught with him, and the others, like her who were steeped in boredom and lewd thoughts, were left blameless. The appointments in the vestry were shared between them, often by the drawing of straws. The fanatical priest, who spoke of hell and damnation from the pulpit and blessed them when they knelt at the altar, was as lewd as a horny hog. He had begged Matilda to let him touch her and she had held out until she’d heard the others boast of their accomplishments with him. Naturally, in the end, she regretted many of the things he had done to her. It was only her lust that had kept her from denying him, and one day, she would have to pay a high price for that extravagant behaviour. But not now, and certainly not in the presence of the Abbess, who, bewildered by Matilda’s confidence, had hurried away.
Alone at last, Matilda smiled. It would not end too badly for her. Nobody wanted a scandal in a convent, and with luck, she would leave in time for the first festival of the new season. Months wasted in a nunnery being taught piety and Matilda had learnt plenty of new things, none of them suitable for a house of God. She was ready to marry.
Chapter Two
“Delightful, is she not, my lord? And to think, she’s barely nineteen and already a fine lady.” The young knight rested his elbow on the table, placed his chin upon the cup of his palm, and sighed heavily.
“Spoilt is what I see,” Gervais said. He tracked the lady in question as she moved upon the balls of her feet, fluttering two curtains of her eyelashes at anyone who dwelt upon her smile. Her face was a cherry blossom, the heat of the fires apparent on her cheeks, while the colour of her eyes, like lush green meadows, reached across the space between them.
“She comes with a generous dowry,” Geoffrey said cheerfully.
“If that is what you need.” Gervais suspected Sir Geoffrey Pole required a considerable dowry to keep his family’s debts from ruining the dynasty. There’d been generations of Pole knights, many whom had served the king in the crusades, then battled the French in Normandy, before crushing rebellion closer to home. A well-liked and respected family. But their debts were threatening, and if they failed to pay them off, their lands would be forfeit.
Gervais was awash with gold and property. The benefits of selling his services to the highest bidder rather than swearing allegiance to one king. Mercenaries were paid, not bribed with titles and wealthy girls to marry.
However, Sir Geoffrey was correct; Lady Matilda Barre was extremely pretty and vivacious.
“Tell me more about her,” he asked the younger man.
“Oh, she’s the second daughter of Gilbert Barre, Baron of Tilbury. A good family, loyal, and blessed with two worthy properties, some land in Normandy from the old days, and a couple of ships. Two elder sons, already married, and the older daughter, well, she’s pious and decided to stay in the convent where she spent her formative years. Tilda, I mean, Matilda, left under a cloud, unfortunately.” Geoffrey frowned.
“How so?” Gervais wiped the wine from his lips. The extravagant meal, served in the earl’s Great Hall, was coming to an end, the boards would soon be removed ready for the dances, and Matilda would no doubt choose to dance with some young buck. The hall was packed with gentry; it was the season for courtship: spring. The festival, chosen to honour some saint or other, was the perfect opportunity for nobles from across the county to visit the earl’s great fortress, to cel
ebrate and woo their intended.
Geoffrey cleared his throat and glanced around. The hubbub nearly drowned out his low voice. “Caught, skirts up, with a priest. Now he claims she tempted him with evil spirits. The priest flagellated himself all night, praying to the almighty for salvation from his sins. Matilda was duly asked to leave. I think the Abbess was close to thrashing her with a birch, but Matilda’s father, who has a weak spot for his daughter, brought her home instead. He told my father in confidence. The abbey which houses the convent has done poorly at hushing the gossip.”
“A thrashing sounds a suitable penance.” Gervais had heard the story from somebody else. The convent had its reputation to maintain; noble families often sent their daughters to a nunnery to teach them piety. Obviously, they had failed with Matilda. So, the possibility she was not a virgin might hinder her marriage options. There again, given the hawkers following her around the hall, maybe not.
“Does it bother you that she’s lacking in good grace?” he asked Geoffrey.
The boy blushed. “I refuse to believe those who spread malicious lies. I spoke to her brother, and he insists she is unspoilt.”
A brother would though. “So you are prepared to court her, woo her?” Gervais called over a servant to refill his goblet.
Geoffrey’s eyes sparkled. “I would scatter petals on the ground upon which she walks if it will bring her to my side as my wife.”
Gervais stopped short of rolling his eyes. Romance inflicted the young at heart. Since he was past those youthful years, and worldly, he said nothing to dampen the poor knight’s spirit. Gervais preferred a demure woman, convent bred or not; it mattered more that she learnt quickly, behaved, and accepted her husband as her master. Love, whatever that was, he had managed without in the ten years since he’d acquired adulthood.
Matilda, rising to her feet and paying little attention to the movement of people around her, bumped into a servant carrying a jug to the upper table where the lords sat. The wine spilled down the front of her dress. The page tried to wipe the spillage with his napkin, but she slapped his hand away.
“You clumsy oaf. How dare you. This is my finest gown. Ruined. I shall have you whipped.” Her shrill voice carried over the musicians in the minstrels’ gallery. A few people ceased talking and stared at her.
