mother. You need not
waste comforting words on me, Sister. Although I sought to obey the man's will,
as one must a sire, I bore no love for him. For that I shall gladly serve my
time in Purgatory, but I cannot feel repentant." She pressed tight fists
into her thighs, before continuing in a hoarse whisper: "He beat my mother
when he drank more than he ought and mounted her with as little tenderness as
if she were a common whore rather than his wife. My first memory of them both
was this."
The
cruelty in the tale hit Eleanor's heart with brutal force. She closed her eyes
but could not stop herself from exclaiming, "You poor child!"
When
Alys turned back to face the nun, all adult defiance had faded from her voice,
replaced with a child's confusion. "When my father died, I thought my
mother would see Bernard's fine qualities and how kind he is to me. My mother
is a loving woman, Sister! After she had suffered so, I was sure she would wish
just such a sweet man as husband for her daughter, but I was mistaken. She
holds to Master Herbert as if her very soul depended on our marriage. Had I not
known otherwise, I would now think my mother, not my dead father, had chosen
him for me."
The
deep exhaustion, which Eleanor had tried firmly to will away, now returned with
unavoidable force. Quickly, she gestured toward the stone seats. When they sat,
Eleanor hid the trembling of her body by bracing herself on the stone and
bending toward Alys as if encouraging the confidential talk. "What lack do
you see in the man your mother is so set on?"
"Oh,
he has enough of his teeth left," Alys said, her anger glowing in the
bright spots on her cheeks, "and his breath does not reek of the
grave!" She wilted into the seat with utter defeat. "I cannot explain
my objections. When I am with him, he makes sure my mother is in attendance. He
has never tried to dishonor me, yet he whispers things in my ears that I do not
care for. When I protest, he claims I have misunderstood, and his reasons are
well expressed. I often conclude I am misjudging him." Her lips twisted as
if she had just tasted something foul. "Nonetheless, I draw back from him
and cannot bear even the touch of his robe. I am unable to explain further,
Sister. Truly I cannot!"
"What
sort of things does he say?"
Alys
flushed, her face now completely scarlet. "He has suggested that Bernard
and I have already bedded."
"Have
you?" Eleanor asked gently.
The
young woman turned her head away as if she were confessing her sins. "I
have fondled him most lovingly, and Bernard has kissed me in such a way that I
have almost swooned. Yet, on my faith, I am still a virgin." She glanced
at the nun beside her as if to gauge her reaction.
Eleanor
compared one sweet summer eve at Wynethorpe Castle, before she took final vows,
with her lustful dreams at Tyndal and knew just how innocent these two young
people were of mortal sin. She nodded.
With
pleased surprise, Alys smiled.
"Was
the vintner married before?"
"Aye,
for some years, but his wife drowned. Master Herbert has always claimed she
slipped. Others say she committed self-murder, for she was in much pain from a
running sore in her womb that refused to heal. The crowner believed she had
willfully drowned and so her soul was cursed and her body laid in an
unsanctified grave."
This
would be Mistress Eda, Eleanor thought. The other ghost. Yet she could see no
way to turn her questions to restless spirits when this girl needed a
compassionate ear. "Might the vintner be unaccustomed to wooing after
years of marriage? Could he have meant well and intended only to show that he
understands the passions of youth?"
Alys
shrugged. "As I have said, I cannot explain why his words trouble me. When
he murmurs in my ear that he is capable of riding me until I scream with joy, I
should conclude that he means to convey how skilled a lover he will be. Yet I
hear only that I will scream. In that prospect, I find neither comfort
nor joy."
Surely
the man was not
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