Free The Border Lord and the Lady by Bertrice Small Page B

no, my lord bishop, on reflection I believe I do need to make my confession,” Cicely said wickedly. “I have questioned why God would choose handsome men for his priesthood instead of ugly ones. Is it not a sin to question God?” She looked up at him, her blue-green eyes wide with feigned innocence.
    He was startled by the question, and then, realizing she was teasing him, he said, “My dear child, isn’t it nicer to confess one’s sins to a handsome man rather than an ugly one? God understands the workings of the female heart, for it is he who created it.”
    “Oh,” she said mischievously, “and I suppose men making their confessions can feel superior to even a handsome cleric, for the priest has given up women and other worldly things, while a normal man may revel in them, and then say he’s sorry. But if a priest envies a normal man his sin is greater, is it not?”
    Now the bishop of Winchester could not refrain from chuckling. The girl was clever and quick. He understood why his niece was so fond of Cicely Bowen. “Very well, then, Lady Minx, you will kneel and, placing your hands in mine, make your confession now.” He led her into the chapel and stood on the steps before the altar.
    Cicely did as she was bidden, all mischief gone from her voice as she asked forgiveness for sins she had long since thought she had put behind her. Anger at her stepmother for not loving her, for not being her friend and mentor, for taking her father from her and forcing her from Leighton Hall. Anger that she had not seen Robert Bowen in two years now, and was not even certain he received the letters she wrote to him. And, to her surprise, anger at Queen Joan’s confessor for causing that good woman difficulty, and anger at the women of Queen Katherine’s household, who did not hold Lady Joan Beaufort in proper esteem. “I am not important, my lord, but Jo is royal, and should be treated with kindness and respected.”
    Bishop Henry listened. He understood the anger Cicely kept so
carefully hidden away from others. He remembered his own childhood, when people had not respected his beautiful mother, and scorned her because of her loyalty and love for John of Gaunt, her lover, and her three sons and little daughter because of the stain of bastardy that touched them. He remembered how their attitudes had changed when his father was finally able to marry Katherine Swynford and legitimate their four children. But his mother had taught them all to be proud of who they were, and allow no one else’s opinions to matter to them.
    Young Cicely had the same ethic, and he admired her for it, for she was a girl and, but for his niece, without influence. The bishop also appreciated her loyalty to Joan Beaufort. And he was quite interested in what she had to say about the priest who had accused Queen Joan of witchcraft. Though the man had claimed falsely, it was later proved, Queen Joan’s malice towards Henry V, it turned out that he had learned from a serving girl that she was teaching her two fosterlings how to prevent conception once they were wives. Outraged but canny, the priest had decided that accusing Queen Joan of treason against Henry V would gain him more than the truth. He had, of course, been wrong, for Joan of Navarre’s love for her stepchildren was a well-documented fact. Still, no stone was left unturned in the investigation, which had never learned the real cause of the priest’s ire, but had learned there was no threat to the king.
    The bishop of Winchester listened to Lady Cicely Bowen’s confession, and then gave her a mild penance that would keep her in the chapel for at least another half an hour. Putting his hand on the head of the kneeling girl, he blessed her and left Cicely to her meditations, smiling.
    Cicely, however, was not thinking of her alleged sins, or her penance. She was wondering what would happen to her when Joan Beaufort married the young king of Scotland. If James Stewart wanted the king of