An Earthly Knight Read online

  “I would give anything to restore the bairn to health,” Lady Bethoc said, a tear trickling down her cheek.

  “Have you only this child?” Jenny’s father asked.

  The thane smiled. “No, we have a daughter, eleven years this spring, and my son and heir, Neis, who will one day be Thane mac Ethenan.”

  “Ah, I have a son myself, with Sir Robert’s household at Lilliesleaf. He lately earned his knight’s spurs. Is your son yet a knight?”

  Jenny was happy the hall was so dark. Her father’s blunt questions made her blush. But the thane only smiled again. “Neis is still a wee lad at home, not yet seven.“

  Jenny could see this reply left her father puzzled. Like her, he assumed Brother Bertrand had recommended Jenny as a possible daughter-in-law. But the thane said nothing more about his family, and Galiene soon arrived to show the visitors their quarters.

  “Let my old nurse watch over the child while you rest,” Jenny whispered to Lady Bethoc as she rose with her sleeping daughter in her arms. “She has a gentle touch.”

  “Dear lass,” Lady Bethoc replied, “you are a treasure, just as we were told.” She squeezed Jenny’s arm with her free hand. “I have a feeling you may be the answer to our prayers.”

  Jenny was left to wonder what she meant. Surely they could not want her as bride for a child of six. Such odd marriages were sometimes made, but only when kingdoms were at stake.

  Lady Bethoc could not be persuaded to leave her child in Galiene’s care until suppertime. Even then, she ate little, glancing anxiously toward the bower all the while as if her love gave her the power to see through walls. Brother Turgis arrived before the meal was over. Jenny had never been so pleased to see him. This was Isabel’s doing, of course. She had remained out of sight, doing exactly what was needed all afternoon. With a pang, Jenny realized what a terrible hole Isabel’s absence would leave in their lives.

  Brother Turgis offered to pray over the sick child. When Lady Bethoc took him to the bower, Thane Ethenan lingered. “How long is the journey to Broomfield Abbey?” he asked.

  “Broomfield is closer than Rowanwald,” the vicomte replied. “It will take you half a day to walk there, but no more.”

  “Lady Bethoc wonders if Lady Jeanette would accompany us. We will remain at the abbey for a single night only. You would do us a great kindness. I am torn to see my wife like this. Lady Jeanette may ride, if she prefers.”

  Jenny did not wait for her father to speak. “I certainly will not ride while you go afoot, my lord, but I will gladly go with you.”

  The thane smiled as he rose. “I will tell my lady so. Thank you, child. You will help ease her burden, and we may know you a little better by the journey’s end.”

  As soon as the thane left the hall, Jenny’s father said, “I think they mean to make a match for you.

  The king holds court at Thane Ethenan’s hall each year. They must know many who would make fine husbands.”

  “Aye, Papa, but I wish they would tell me.”

  Jenny looked down to discover she was wringing her dress. She quickly stopped and smoothed the cloth.

  “You must not ask. A girl seems unmaidenly if she is too eager to wed.”

  “I am not eager to wed. I only wish to know what manner of man they propose, whether he be kind or cruel.”

  “A match such as Thane Ethenan might suggest could make our fortune, child. The young king would know me by name.”

  Jenny knew her welfare was not uppermost in her father’s mind. This could be his chance to regain everything lost with Isabel’s downfall. But she could not help imagining the worst a husband might be.

  Jenny slept poorly that night. The inner wall of the bower was little more than a partition, and Brother Turgis’s nasal prayers droned on and on. Late in the night, she woke from a light doze to hear Lady Bethoc crying. Soon after, Jenny fell into an uneasy dream. She was back in the forest, but there was a great gathering of knights with horses and banners and tents. Jenny found herself dressed in a gown of scarlet silk, a finer dress than she had ever seen. “Come forward to meet the king,” Lady Bethoc said, taking her hand. Jenny knelt before the throne. When she looked up, Tam Lin was smiling down at her with a crown on his head. He stepped down and put his arms around her, and Jenny was flooded with a strong feeling of belonging.

  Jenny woke to the weak grey light of dawn with a headache. The dream had been so vivid, she wondered if it held some portent for the future, as Galiene said dreams often did. Could it be that Thane Ethenan and Lady Bethoc were looking for a wife for Tam Lin? No, that made no sense. A Scot from the north would not be acting for the Norman Earl of Roxburg. She snuggled into the warm bed beside Isabel and was almost asleep again when Galiene shook her foot through the blankets. The old nurse had the bleary look of someone who had not slept all night. “Time to be up, my honey,” she whispered. “The thane and his lady are anxious to be gone. Hawise packed some food to eat along the way.”

  A light drizzle was falling when they left the bailey, but soon after they passed through the village of Langknowes, it burned off with the morning mist. The day was going to be warm and clear. Under other circumstances, the trip would have brought Jenny joy. But the child seemed even worse now, and the journey took on an air of urgency. They travelled quickly, without speaking.

  The great forest of the fairies rose untouched across the River Tweed, but the land on this side was tame. The ploughed riggs were now softened with the green of new oats and barley. The road followed the Tweed, but not closely. Sometimes they lost sight of it for long stretches. Then, at the crest of a hill or a bend in the road, it would appear again, weaving through the countryside like a sinuous black serpent, the ripples on the surface flashing like scales. The sun was high overhead before the cultivated fields gave way to forest again. By then, it was so hot that Jenny was grateful for the shade. They did not stop to eat, but travelled on.

  Early in the afternoon, Jenny heard a strange new noise from the litter, somewhere between coughing and choking. Lady Bethoc ordered the men to put the litter down and took the child in her arms. “I know that rattle well. Death comes to take my child,” she said.

  Jenny heard sadness in her voice, but relief as well. Lady Bethoc rocked her child and crooned to her. A few moments later, the child’s eyes lost their depth and Jenny knew her soul was taken. After a long moment, Lady Bethoc laid the child on the litter with great tenderness, closing her eyes and covering the small body with a blanket. Then she drew herself up and folded her hands.

  “The Lord has answered our prayers. Her suffering is ending.”

  The grieving mother walked on in silence, but Thane Ethenan spoke softly to Jenny. “Death is no stranger to my house,” he said. “Three of our bairns died at birth, but this is the first time one has suffered so. Poor wee mite, she took her pain with the courage of a warrior.”

  Soon after, the trees parted and Broomfield Abbey could be seen in a sheltered river valley below. The clean, strong walls of a stone church were just beginning to emerge out of a confusing maze of wooden huts and outbuildings. It looked more like the encampment of an army than a holy place. Near the first buildings, a smiling man in the plain brown robes of a lay brother came to meet them, but the smile fell from his face when he saw the small bundle on the litter. “Follow me,” he said. He led them to a wall of wooden palings as high and strong as those of a bailey. “No visitors pass beyond,” he said. “I will fetch the guest master.” And he disappeared behind the stout gate that cloistered those in holy orders from the world.

  When Brother Turgis had spoken of Broomfield, Jenny had pictured a quiet and secluded place, but the abbey grounds were thronged. Dozens of lay brothers buzzed about like brown worker bees. The unmistakable stench of a tannery drifted over from distant buildings. Masons came and went, distinguished by the funny hose that buttoned outside their jerkins and the fine white rock dust that covered them. Peddlers hawked their wares to the crowds. Every unused space was litt
ered with pilgrims who had come for the well, some far advanced in their infirmities. Jenny looked away quickly to avoid the gaze of a leper with no nose.

  The noise and smells mixed in the hot sun. It was too much after the child’s death. Jenny felt faint. Just when she thought she might have to sit down, the lay brother returned with a white-robed monk, a tall, stooped man with thinning hair.

  “Welcome, travellers,” he said in heavily accented English. “I am Brother Marius, the guest master. You bring us the body of a child for burial?” His straightforward manner made lengthy explanations unnecessary. As they introduced themselves, Jenny could see how grateful the grieving parents were for his tact. Brother Marius made a gesture that encompassed the grounds around him. “The nature of our abbey has caused us to have a kirkyard before we have a church. The child’s body will rest in consecrated ground. Follow me, my lady, and tell your men to bring the body.”

  Thane Ethenan opened his purse and pressed a generous heap of coins into Brother Marius’s hands. “To pray for the soul of our Avece,” he said.

  The monk took the coins but said, “Please, hide your purse well within your tunic, my lord. Some who came as pilgrims remain as beggars, and not all are honest. We will send for you when the body is ready to be committed to the ground. Brother Freskyn,” he said to the brother who had brought them to the gate, “show the thane and the young lady to our hospital.“

  “In time, we will have a proper hospital for visitors, and an infirmary too,” Brother Freskyn said. “But now, everything is makeshift. The abbey was founded eight years ago, but since the well gained its reputation, the place has grown beyond control.” His pride was obvious.

  “How long have pilgrims been coming to the well?” Thane Ethenan asked.

  “Not yet a year. A lame shepherd boy dipped his foot in the water of the well one hot day last summer, near Lammastide and his foot was miraculously restored. News spread. Now, we even see pilgrims from other lands, like yourself.” He hesitated. “Would you like to see the well?”

  Jenny understood his hesitation. It could be bitter for the thane to see the well that might have saved his child. But he simply nodded, and Brother Freskyn led them to a small wooden hut. The ground outside was littered with the ill and infirm, some lying on pallets. The door was barred. When Brother Freskyn nodded to another lay brother to open it, the crowd surged forward. He spoke sharply to the pilgrims. “Leave off. The noble lord and lady wish to see the well. It will not be open again until dusk.” He added more quietly, “The pilgrims would tear the place apart in their zeal if we did not control them.”

  Jenny was blinded by the sudden dimness, but as her eyes adjusted she saw the walls were covered with fine tapestries. “Scenes from the life of Saint Coninia,” Brother Freskyn said, knowing their eyes would be drawn to the colours. “After the church is finished, a worthy shrine will be built here.”

  The well itself was a plain circle of stones, now covered with canes, crutches and even some eye patches, attesting to cures. There were also dozens of little ex-votos, the wax or wooden images of body parts or organs pilgrims left to indicate where their illnesses lay.

  “It is wonderful that pilgrims can gain relief from their suffering here,” Thane Ethenan said after a long silence.

  “Aye, though some are cured and some are not. It must depend upon the depth of the sin that caused the illness, I think,” Brother Freskyn said, leading them outside again. “Perhaps ills caused by the sins of ancestors are more readily cured than those due to the pilgrims’ own misdeeds.” Then he seemed to remember himself. “This is my own thought, of course. The brothers in holy orders would know better.”

  The hospital where they would spend the night was just two long sheds, one for women, one for men. Jenny barely had time to glance around when a novice arrived to take them to the gates of the kirkyard where Lady Bethoc and her servants waited with Brother Marius and a priest.

  Wrapped in a linen winding sheet, the child’s body looked more like a bundle than a mortal being. The thane lifted it from the litter. Jenny had never seen a weight that looked so hard to bear. Two lay brothers were still digging a hole in the soft red earth as the small procession approached. The child was laid in the ground with little ceremony, and damp earth showered onto the taut linen cloth, pattering like falling rain.

  “Heaven will surely smile on one so innocent and young,” the priest said as they left the kirkyard.

  “She is safe in the hands of God now,” Lady Bethoc said. “A mother could ask no more.”

  Even without the child’s death, Jenny would have found the crush of folk, foul smells and constant activity at Broomfield oppressive. She felt she had been away from home for months. So she was relieved when Lady Bethoc nudged her awake at first light the next morning. “We have food enough from yesterday,” she whispered to Jenny. “Let us leave now.”

  The thane sent the servants ahead with the empty litter so they would not be reminded of the death. Tears trickled down Lady Bethoc’s cheeks from time to time as they walked, but she said nothing of her grief.

  With Broomfield behind them, the thane and his lady began to ask Jenny about herself. Did she hunt? Did she like to ride? Had she ever travelled abroad? Could she read Latin? This was more than idle curiosity.

  When they stopped at noon, Thane Ethenan excused himself. Lady Bethoc wasted no time. “The ways of God are mysterious,” she said. “We came seeking a cure, not a bride, though we knew both were needed. We found no cure, and yet we may have found the bride.”

  Jenny wondered if Lady Bethoc could hear her heart beating as she waited to hear mote.

  “My child, you may know the king has sworn he will never marry. This is not a wise choice for a king, but he will not be swayed. This year, his sister Adeline is to wed the Count of Holland, so both sisters will be happily married. But there are two younger brothers, David, who is yet a lad, and William, who is nineteen, only a year younger than King Malcolm.” She paused, searching for words, it seemed. “I must be frank. Earl William does not share his brother’s saintly virtues. He is hot-blooded, in more ways than one, if you take my meaning.”

  Jenny wondered what Lady Bethoc meant. She was too embarrassed to say she did not understand, so she nodded, blushing in confusion.

  “The king desires his brother to wed, but of course, the choice must be William’s. King Malcolm has charged his most trusted nobles with the task of finding suitable lassies. The almoner at Rowanwald spoke well of you when we told him this, and he did not mislead us. You may not be the only one to be considered. What do you say to that?”

  Jenny took a deep breath. “Lady Bethoc, the night you came to us, I dreamed I was presented to a king,” Jenny said. She did not mention Tam Lin. That part of the story was too confusing and too secret.

  Lady Bethoc laughed. “If you were a Scot, I would say you have second sight.”

  Jenny squared her shoulders. “But I am a Scot. My mother’s folk have always lived here.”

  “Forgive me, lass. We find it hard to think of anyone who lives south of the Forth as a Scot. Even Edinburgh itself is not properly Scottish in the eyes of my folk.” Jenny knew there was no point in arguing. Lady Bethoc continued. “William’s mother is a Norman, like your father’s people. He has taken the name of his mother’s family, de Warenne, and he is very much the Norman knight, with virtues and sins that you may well understand.”

  Jenny thought of a husband with her father’s flaws. She shook her head without realizing.

  “Are you unwilling to tame our young lion, then?” Thane Ethenan said, returning.

  Jenny smiled. “Not unwilling.” She remembered something else from that dream, the way she had felt in Tam Lin’s arms. She lifted her chin. “Earl William would have to please me as well.”

  Thane Ethenan clapped his hands. “Well spoken, lass. Our young earl needs a wife with mettle. But he is handsome enough to please the ladies, is he not, Bethoc?”

  Bethoc nodde
d. “Rufus, they call him, for his copper-coloured hair, and in our language he is called ‘garbh.’ which means brawny. But there is more to him than his looks, Jeanette. Our king has always been delicate in health. He “may not, God forbid, live out his years. Earl William is his brother’s heir. We are not only seeking a bride for a powerful earl. We may be looking for the queen of Scotland.”

  Chapter Eight

  When Jenny waved goodbye to Thane Ethenan and Lady Bethoc at the gates of her father’s bailey the following day, she felt she was parting with friends. Her father stood beside her, beaming. He had not stopped smiling since the thane told him the news on their return from Broomfield Abbey. Thane Ethenan’s description of Earl William at supper that evening was highly flattering. “The flower of Scottish manhood,” he said, “skilled in battle, fair of form.”

  Jenny’s father wished to arrange a meeting at once, but Lady Bethoc calmed him. “In good time,” she said, “The royal house is much occupied with the marriage of Lady Adeline.”

  When they parted, she had whispered in Jenny’s ear, “I will arrange to be present when you meet the young earl. Our clerk will write Brother Bertrand when things are settled.” Jenny was grateful to Lady Bethoc. For once in her life, she would have a proper chaperone.

  “You shall marry one of the most powerful men in Scotland,” her father said as soon the bailey gates were closed. “What do you say to that, little one?”

  Jenny smiled. “It would be lovely, Papa.” The thought of being married to the king’s own brother did appeal to her.

  Vicomte Avenel began to travel to Rowanwald regularly to discuss Jenny’s future with Brother Bertrand and the abbot. Anticipating the meeting, her father’s generosity seemed limitless. The merchants of Rowanwald grew to know him well and began to come to Langknowes with their finest wares. Jenny was not entirely surprised when the bolt of scarlet silk arrived.