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Duke Lukas seemed to be nearly finished with his survey of the abbey lands. He hadn’t gotten a warrant from the crown yet to confiscate the property, and Sister Alberta thought that was a good sign.
“I’ve written to the Bishop of Keneburg and the Bishop of Leornian,” she told Morwen. “They’ve both said they would intercede with the king on our behalf.” Considering that the Bishop of Leornian was Lukas’s own brother, that was pretty encouraging.
In early December, nearly six months after the battle, the very last of the wounded men left to return home. They were a pair of young knights, one from Severn, the other from Keneburg, who had lost their legs. They had been on opposite sides, but now they were great friends, and they were already making plans to visit each other’s estates.
Morwen had helped the master carpenter shape and fit the false limbs for them, a strangely intimate process that some of the other nuns had been too embarrassed to watch. But as Morwen told Lillian, she had grown up with two brothers, so the male form wasn’t exactly a mystery to her.
The very next day after the last two men left, Morwen got a letter from her mother, along with a heavy iron box. She opened the letter first, and when she read it, she was pleasantly surprised.
Dear Morwen,
I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything that you and the sisters of your convent have done for the wounded men. I have never been prouder to be your mother. I wish my generosity could match my gratitude, but as you know, Broderick and Lukas are looking to steal as much of our land as possible. Even so, I’ve directed my treasurer to sell off some of my jewelry so I could send the proceeds to you. The amount is three hundred Sovereigns, and I am sure you will be able to put it to good use.
Love,
Your Mother
For a week, Morwen was as happy as she could ever remember being. She had done the right thing for the glory of Earstien, and for once, she had managed to win her mother’s approval. She had gotten used to the notion that the two things were mutually incompatible. But in this instance, apparently they weren’t.
At the same time, the Severnshire troops were starting to leave the area for their winter quarters around Keneburg. All the nuns were happy to see the back of them, and everyone hoped this meant things were finally going back to normal. It would be strange to have nothing to do but the usual services of the hours, the regular charity visits, and the ordinary account books in the treasury.
The Solstice arrived, and of course the townspeople had their usual festival, with bonfires and dancing. The nuns stayed well clear of it, naturally, though they benefitted indirectly, through the sale of cider, ale, and mutton. As treasurer, it was Morwen’s responsibility to collect payment, but that was a job for later. She had no intention of going out in the middle of a huge party if she didn’t have to.
And then a message arrived, late in the afternoon, carried by one of the tavern girls from Basington. “Running low on ale?” Morwen asked.
“Er, no, Sister Morwen.” She handed over a sealed letter. “Sir Halvor asked me to come.”
“What could he want?” wondered Morwen, as she broke the seal.
Sister Morwen,
I have finished my survey of the abbey’s lands. I have every reason to think the king will grant them to me. However, I have a proposition for you that may preserve the abbey. If you would like to hear my proposal, come to the Red Elm on High Street by sundown. Come alone.
Your friend,
Halvor
Morwen was curious enough that she contemplated going to meet him. The rules of the convent, of course, required that she tell the abbess where she was going and take at least one other nun with her. So she clearly wasn’t going to go to the tavern alone. And frankly, she preferred to meet him on her own ground, rather than out in the town. She wrote a reply telling Sir Halvor that he could meet her in the abbey churchyard after evening prayers. If he couldn’t agree to that, then she wasn’t interested in seeing him at all.
She almost convinced herself that he wasn’t going to show up. But when she stepped out the chapel door, there he was, pacing back and forth between two ancient tombstones. He was wrapped in a black bearskin cloak, and he loomed over her so large that he might have been a bear himself.
“Sister Morwen. Kind of you to come.” He looked at one of the tombstones. “This would have been more comfortable at the tavern, though.”
“We don’t need to be comfortable, Sir Halvor. Tell me this plan of yours to save the abbey.”
“It’s a proposal for mutual benefit. You help me, and then I can help you.”
“Help you do what?”
“Two things. Two rather minor things that you frankly should want to do anyway. And in return, I’ll let the abbey keep most of its lands. Your convent could continue to operate in its ancient, sadly misguided way.”
“You make it sound so appealing.” Morwen crossed her arms. “What are these two things?”
“First, I want you to speak with your brother Pedr and encourage him to marry my sister Penny.”
“Why should I do that? Pedr is a grown man. He can decide for himself who he marries. And has Penny given her consent for this plan?”
“Marriage would do wonders for Penny. As it would for certain other people I could name. Which brings me to my second condition. I want you to renounce your vows and marry me.”
“What? How could you even ask me that?”
“That’s not a ‘no,’ is it?”
“It’s ridiculous! Of course I’m not going to marry you.”
“Why not? I’m the son of a duke; you’re the daughter of a duchess. Who is, by the way, rather favorably disposed to my suit. I spoke to Duchess Flora, and she said she would love to have me as a son-in-law.”
“Of course she did,” snapped Morwen. “She’s practically your hostage. What else was she going to say?”
“Oh, no,” chuckled Sir Halvor. “She really did seem quite enthusiastic. I think she likes the notion of your leaving the convent.”
Morwen wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her admit that was true. Now that she thought about it, she found it all too believable that her mother would support a marriage with Sir Halvor. Anything to advance the family’s interests, after all.
“My mother doesn’t get to make the choice. I made a vow to Earstien, and I intend to keep it.”
“And you’re willing to let me shut down this convent rather than give up your precious vow of chastity?”
“Just asking me to make that choice shows why the answer will never be ‘yes.’”
He stepped up and threw an arm around her and pulled her in close. “I don’t believe you.” He kissed the top of her head, then released her. “I’ll tell you what. I will give you the winter to think it over. This really is your only chance to save the abbey. Consider your answer very carefully.”
He released her and stalked out of the churchyard. Morwen watched him go, wishing she had never met him and that he had never formed this ridiculous attachment to her.
“Well, well, well. What a touching scene that was.”
Morwen spun around and saw Catherine Foster watching her from the side chapel door. “Sister Catherine!” she said. “I...I didn’t see you there.”
“Evidently not. This is something we’re going to have to bring to the abbess’s attention, don’t you think?”
Morwen begged and pleaded, but after a minute, she realized that doing so only made her look more guilty. “Very well. Let’s go see Sister Alberta.”
In the abbess’s private study, Catherine gave her version of events—both this latest encounter and the one she had witnessed in Formacaster. Nothing she said was precisely a lie, but she made it sound as if Morwen had been a willing participant.
“Sister Alberta, I assure you that Sir Halvor has never had any sort of encouragement from me,” said Morwen.
“And yet he has now asked you to marry him,” said the abbess. “That seems like a rather serious step for a man to take with no encouragement at all.”
“I can’t explain it. I’m sorry, but I don’t know why he has such an infatuation with me.”
“You should have told me about this earlier, Sister Morwen.” The abbess gave her a severe look. “I might be tempted to think that you enjoyed his attentions.”
“I certainly didn’t.”
Sister Catherine piped up. “Clearly, this is something that needs to be brought before the whole chapter. Perhaps there should be an official inquiry.”
The abbess frowned at her. “I shall have to consider what to do.” Turning back to Morwen, she asked, “Have you violated your vow of chastity? If the answer is yes, then I would urge you to confess it now.”
Morwen shook her head. “I’ve never broken my vows. I can promise you that.”
“I believe there are procedures for this,” Sister Catherine said. “I’ve read of cases where nuns were obliged to prove their purity through an examination of their, er...person in front of the entire chapter.”
“Thank you, Sister Catherine,” said the abbess. “I think we have detained you from your duties long enough. If you would permit me a word alone with Sister Morwen.”
When she was gone, the abbess told Morwen to sit down. “I don’t believe you did anything wrong, but Catherine will spread this rumor all around the convent. It would have been much better if you had told me about Sir Halvor’s attentions earlier. We might have avoided all this trouble.”
“You’re right, Sister Alberta. I’m very sorry.”
“I’m glad you are sorry, but being sorry doesn’t fix the problem. We can’t let the abbey die, and we can’t give you up to such a man. Sir Halvor has placed us in an impossible position. Your penance will be to help me think up a way to get out of it.”