The next morning’s mist was a light one. The yellow sun had already warmed the nearby outcropping of blue and lavender flowers, soft as a bishop’s linen, and their fragrance filled the air with an agreeable scent that almost masked the stench of rank filth and rotting weeds along the river bank. Nor did the air bite the skin as was sometimes true before the midsummer sun finally vanquished all remnants of the darker seasons. In sum, the day seemed quite filled with tenderness.
Alys, however, was unmindful of the morning’s promise. Had she been passing a dunghill, her expression could not have been more sour; her face was reddened as if winter’s chill still ruled.
“Is it not a lovely morning for a walk, mistress?” Master Herbert slowed so he would not outpace the sullen young woman at his side.
In the distance, a crow cawed, the grating sound heard clearly above the rush of the river’s waters.
“My daughter most heartily agrees!” Jhone’s tone was flat with forced enthusiasm. “And would have answered herself were she not dreaming of how happy she shall be upon your marriage.” Although she remained some feet behind the wooing couple, the sharp rebuke in these last words was not softened by the separation.
Alys said nothing, and the color in her face now darkened even more. She stopped and kicked at a rock in the path. The force sent the stone flying over the tall grass and into the river.
Herbert folded his arms and studied the flight of the rock with a thoughtful look. When he saw the splash, he turned around and motioned Jhone to turn away.
“Oh!” the mother exclaimed softly, reading his meaning well. Studying the ground as if she had dropped something, she began to walk slowly back toward the village.
The vintner stepped close to Alys and reached for her hand.
The girl folded her arms into the sleeves of her robe.
He bent to her ear and whispered: “I may be twice your age, but my breath is still sweet and my rod can give much joy to one who has known only callow boys.”
Alys glared, and her nose wrinkled with disgust.
“My first wife was pleased enough with me as husband, mistress. Take heart in that. Few of us marry as we wish, but many find joy nonetheless. You will forget Bernard’s fumblings in time.”
Alys raised her hand to strike.
Herbert stepped back. “Ah, see how modest your daughter is!” he called out with merry laughter. “I promise her a tender wedding night, and she blushes with such innocence.”
Jhone turned around and waved brightly at the couple. To herself, she prayed that she could get her still virginal daughter into this merchant’s bed before the girl gave up that virtue to her precious glover.
Alys froze, her mouth open to protest, and her hand still raised. Then she shuddered, spun around, and raced off toward the priory.
Herbert watched the young woman hurry away. As his gaze dropped below her waist, his tongue circled his lips. Although this union had been arranged for economic benefit, he seemed to have concluded that some of Alys’ other charms might be equally compelling. He shook his head and strolled back toward the widow.
“Your daughter is fortunate to have you as an example of wifely virtue, Mistress Jhone,” he said as he reached her side. “You were a most worthy spouse to your dead husband, and he spoke often of your thoughtful obedience and sweet modesty, qualities all Christian women should share. He may have spent many hours drinking with his friends at the inn, but he always went home to you. Not once did he dishonor your marriage by bedding another woman, although there were many to tempt him.” He smiled down at her. “As his close friend, I can confirm his fidelity.”
Jhone bit her lip.
“Are you sure you will not reconsider my offer?” Herbert’s breath brushed the widow’s ear.
“You are generous to offer marriage to a poor widow of my years, sir,” she whispered hoarsely, “but I cannot remarry. To share another man’s bed would be like putting horns on my dead husband’s brow. Nay, I shall go to him at death as faithful a spouse as I have been since we wed.”
“The Church would give its blessing. Remarriage is no sin.”
“To some it is, and I am one who believes it so. Which man would I call my earthly lord, and at whose side should I stand on Judgement Day? Nay, Master Herbert, my daughter is the better choice and more likely to bear you sons as well. Remember that I bore my husband only one living child and that a daughter.” She winced as if stabbed with a sudden pain.
The vintner’s palm lightly touched Jhone’s waist but did not stay. “Your late husband gave you no sons, mistress. With due respect to my old friend and your honored spouse, my seed has proven stronger. My dead wife, may God have mercy upon her, bore three sons for me, but they all died soon after birth. She was weak of body, I fear. Even all the daughters failed to thrive.” He rubbed the corner of his eyes with one finger. “I wish that had not been true, but you were her childhood friend and saw how quickly my beloved Eda grew frail.”
“She suffered so!” An unrestrained tear slipped from the widow’s eye. “No, I could never take her place in your bed. To do so would be a betrayal.”
“Betrayal? Never! Nor would she think such a thing, even though her soul twists in Hell’s fires. Your fidelity to her memory has been constant enough to prove your loyalty. You are amongst the few who share my belief that she was wrongly accused of self-murder and should have been buried in sanctified ground.”
“I pray daily at her grave.”
“Just so! On my own hope of heaven, I swear it would please our Eda to see us comfortably wed to each other. May I not persuade you to take me as spouse?” He bent to kiss her.
Jhone turned her head away from the vintner’s lips, although the slowness with which she did so suggested some reluctance. “You need sons, sir. Your seed should be planted, not in the weak body of this aging widow, but in a strong girl like my Alys…”
“…a daughter who appears inclined to reject my suit and join this Order of Fontevraud where Eve rules Adam. A most unnatural Order methinks, although I believe it is much favored at the king’s court.” Herbert stepped away to put a more respectable distance between them.
“Fear not! My daughter shall take vows for cert, but they will be earthly ones as your wife at the church door.”
“So you say, yet she continues to refuse marriage with me with unwomanly determination.”
Jhone’s face flushed. “She will be persuaded. As for her plea to become a nun at this priory, I swear that I shall not allow such a thing.”
Herbert frowned as if deep in thought, reached for her hand, and placed it lightly on his arm. “Nor would I, were she my child. This priory is most undeserving of her, a cursed place I think. Although I have said that the spirit haunting this priory must be our Eda, longing for proper burial, I cannot discount those who say the founding queen has returned to condemn those false monastics for their lewdness.”
“Yet the priory has been of assistance to the village. My sister’s son and husband both earn their bread there, along with many others from Amesbury. Prioress Ida is known for her generosity to the poor, feeding their bodies and praying for their souls.”
“She is a chaste and honorable virgin herself, but we cannot ignore with what disgrace priory monks follow Satan’s song over the broken wall to the inn where they satisfy their unholy lusts.”
“That is surely past! My sister told me the wall has been repaired and no one has since…”
“Your sister says? Forgive me, but I cannot give credence to her opinions. Honest though she may be, your sister is not known for her judgement in worldly matters. Did she not resist, like your daughter does now, when your parents proposed an honorable marriage many years ago? Did she not instead marry a rogue, a man who once spied on tradesmen, men traveling to make fair profit, for the purpose of sending masterless men to rob them of their wealth?” Herbert let his words sink in. “Nay, I am not convinced that the priory has ceased sinning and have long questioned the competence of its leadership. How wise was it, for example, to give work in priory fields to a man like your sister’s husband?”
“Wulfstan was never found guilty of any crime…” Jhone quickly lowered her head as if apologizing for her quick speech. “I thought the priory kind…”
Herbert patted her hand. “What sweet, feminine charity you show! Even though he was never arrested for his foul deeds, most of us know your brother-in-law was a felon.” Sighing, he continued. “The old prioress, who is most assuredly in Heaven for her charitable spirit, may have been ill-advised to hire such a man, but I cannot dispute her soft-hearted motives in doing so, nor yours in defending them.”
The two fell silent as the May sun enfolded them with amiable warmth. To their right, a row of yellow-cheeked Great Tit chicks, evenly spaced along a tree branch, filled the air with raucous protest over an unacceptable parental delay in their feeding.
Jhone’s lips curved into a brief smile at the sight.
“Very well, I trouble you no longer with my pleas, although I trust that you will tame your wayward Alys and keep her from following the ill-advised example of her aunt.”
“I shall.”
“And teach your daughter how to serve a husband as you yourself did with your dear spouse? That is not so much to ask in return for my devotion and the sharing of my wealth.”
“You may count on it, sir.”
“And persuade her that convent vows are not for her?”
She nodded.
“I shall be most thankful to you for all of this and will demonstrate my gratitude in a more tangible form as soon as the marriage takes place.” His lips smiled, but his eyes lacked the glow of comparable joy.
A scream shattered the peaceful morning.
Jhone picked up her robe and raced toward the river. The vintner was not far behind.
When they reached the trembling Alys, the pair quickly saw the cause of her horror. A dead body bobbed gently in the tangled growth at the edge of the Avon. Although each of them knew most of the townspeople of Amesbury, none could identify whose body it might be.
The corpse had quite lost its head.