To The Castle

Six

Nell retired to her bedroom that evening with a hard knot of tension in her stomach. What had once been marriage in the abstract had suddenly become very real.

Gertrude, the handmaid who had been serving her since she’d come home, helped her to disrobe. Most of the Norman upper class slept naked, but Nell had worn a nightgown in the convent, and she continued to cling to this custom.

Gertrude was brushing her hair when her mother came into the room. “I want to talk to you, Nell,” Lady Alice said.

Gertrude curtsied to Lady Alice and left mother and daughter alone.

Lady Alice went to sit beside Nell on the bed. She picked up her daughter’s hand. “Roger is a very handsome lad,” she said. “I foresee a happy future for you, Nell.”

“He seems nice,” Nell said woodenly.

“Tomorrow we will go into Lincoln and the day after that you will be married. This may be the last time I have a chance to speak to you privately.” She squeezed Nell’s hand gently. “I think I should tell you about what happens between a man and a woman when they are wed. I have a feeling that you are completely innocent of this matter and I don’t want you to be shocked on your wedding night.”

Nell looked at the flowing white linen that was draped over her knees and didn’t answer.

Lady Alice said, “Do you know how a man and a woman make a baby?”

Nell shook her head and continued to look at her lap.

Her mother then described the act of lovemaking, and what Nell was to expect on her wedding night. Nell was speechless, unable to comprehend what she was hearing.

“It’s not so bad,” her mother said. “I know it probably sounds frightening to you, but it can be pleasurable, Nell.”

Nell thought it sounded terrible. This man, whom she scarcely knew, was going to do this to her? She looked at her mother. “Mama,” she said hoarsely, “I’m not ready to do that yet.”

Lady Alice shook her head. “I wish we could have waited for a while to have this wedding. You are too new from the convent to appreciate how lucky you are to be marrying a fine young man like Roger. But the men wouldn’t wait and you are just going to have to resign yourself, my dear. You are going to have to let Roger do what he wants—that is the nature of marriage, I’m afraid.”

Nell’s stomach heaved. “The basin,” she said. “Mama…”

Lady Alice grabbed the washbasin that reposed on Nell’s side table and Nell vomited into it.

“You can’t do this tomorrow, Nell,” she said sharply. “I sympathize with you, but you are going to have to do your duty. At least you are not going to an old man with sour breath and no hair. Your bridegroom is the kind of young man that most girls would give anything to marry. Show some backbone.”

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Nell said miserably.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have spoken to you tonight. Perhaps I should have let you find out for yourself.”

Nell shook her head. “No. I’m glad you told me. At least I can prepare myself now.”

“That’s my good girl.” Lady Alice stood up. “Now let’s get Gertrude to clean up this mess.”

After Lady Alice had left and the washbasin had been removed, Nell crawled into bed and curled up into a tight little ball. Roger’s words from this afternoon kept going through her mind. The Pope has decreed that no one can force a woman to marry against her will.

What if she cited this proclamation by the Pope? What if she refused to make this marriage?

She thought of how angry her father would be.

She thought of what Mother Superior and Sister Helen had said to her.

She thought of her mother.

Show some backbone, her mother had said.

She shut her eyes tightly. She would have to go through with it. There was really no choice.

Roger awoke with the sun the following morning. Today he, his grandfather and their retainers would process into Lincoln to spend the night at the sheriff’s quarters in the castle. They would be followed an hour later by Nell and her wedding party, who would spend the night in the bishop’s lodging. On the morrow the bishop would perform the ceremony that would wed him to Nell de Bonvile.

She’s so pretty, Roger thought as he stretched his arms comfortably above his head. Her eyes were beautiful—so dark and yet so blue. And she was shy.

I can handle shyness, he thought. I’ll get Lady Mabel to take her under her wing and show her what her duties will be as my wife. Lady Mabel was married to Simon Everard, the earl’s steward, and she was in charge of the few ladies who currently resided at Wilton castle.

Roger was placed next to Nell at the high table for breakfast. He smiled down into her pale face. “Just think, tomorrow at this time we will be getting married.”

Nell went even paler. “Yes,” she said faintly.

His smile faded. “Are you ill? You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine. I didn’t sleep well, that is all.”

Roger had slept soundly; he usually did, no matter where his bed might be. “We’re leaving right after breakfast,” he said now. “I won’t see you again until we meet at the church.”

Nell nodded. She had taken scarcely a bite of the fresh white bread that was in front of her. “Are you nervous?” Roger asked.

She produced a faint smile. “Yes. I’m not used to being the center of attention.”

He gave her a reassuring smile in return. “Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”

“I’m sure it will be,” she said in a low voice.

She was as pretty this morning as he’d remembered, he thought. Her skin was flawless in the sunlight coming in through the high windows of the hall. She’s frightened, he thought. I’ll have to be very careful with her.

The bridegroom’s party left Bardney directly after breakfast. Nell looked out the window as the wedding party lined up in the outer bailey. The knights leading the party wore armor, but Roger and his grandfather were dressed in fine tunics, flowing mantles and low, soft boots. Their heads were bare and Roger carried a bag of coins to fling to any bystanders they might pass along the way.

The sun reflected off Roger’s hair, making it shine like one of the golden coins he carried.

“He’s so handsome.” Marie, one of the ladies, came up behind her. “You’re so lucky, Nell.”

She sounded wistful. Nell realized that Marie wished she was the one marrying Roger tomorrow. Well, Nell wished that, too. “Yes,” she replied quietly. “He is very handsome.”

Lady Alice came into the room. “Come along, Nell, and get dressed. We have to make a show for the common folk. They will be lining the road to see you.”

“Yes, Mama,” Nell said dully, and turned to follow her mother out of the room.

Nell’s wedding day dawned overcast and damp.

“At least it isn’t raining,” Lady Alice said brightly as she and Lord Raoul walked beside Nell to the cathedral. They were all dressed in their best finery, with Nell wearing a deep blue overtunic over a red undertunic. It was Sybilla’s dress, redone to fit Nell. Lord Raoul and Lady Alice also looked richly colored and sumptuous. They all wore mantles suspended around their shoulders by gold chains, and Nell’s braids were entwined with gold thread and fastened with golden balls. She was bareheaded while Lady Alice wore a small veil anchored by a thin gold circle.

Lord Raoul looked down upon his daughter with approval. “You look very nice, Nell,” he said. “Roger will think himself a lucky man to be getting such a pretty bride along with an earldom.”

“Thank you, Father,” Nell said in a voice that was scarcely audible.

“You need some color in your cheeks, though,” he said. “Here.” Lady Alice stepped in front of Nell so she had to stop, then she pinched her daughter’s cheeks. “There,” she said. “That’s better.”

The Bail of the castle was filled with people waiting to catch a glimpse of the bride. Thank goodness the bishop’s residence is right next to the cathedral, Nell thought. She didn’t feel prepared to run the gamut of a large, noisy crowd.

“Ah, isn’t she lovely,” a woman’s voice called out. “Good luck to you, dearie.”

The crowd murmured agreement.

Then they were walking up the steps of the cathedral and into the large stone building. Martin Demas, Bardney’s steward, was standing in the vestibule waiting for them. Lord Raoul cracked the door into the church and peered in.

“It’s full,” he reported proudly. “Looks like all of our and Wilton’s vassals in the area came.”

“That they did, my lord,” Martin said.

Nell shivered a little and crossed her arms over her blue tunic.

This can’t be happening to me. I can’t be standing here, waiting to get married. Oh, God, why did Sybilla have to die?

Nell wet her lips with her tongue. “Where is Roger?” she asked.

Her father looked through the door again. “He just came out to stand beside the altar.”

Lady Alice said, “I should take my place.”

The steward came to her. “I will escort you down the aisle, my lady.”

“Thank you,” Lady Alice said.

Nell stood, her arms crossed over her chest, as her mother left the vestibule to walk down the church aisle. Lord Raoul watched through the partially open door. When Lady Alice was finally seated, the cathedral choir began to sing an unaccompanied Gregorian chant.

“That’s our signal,” the earl said. He offered Nell his arm. She put her small hand on it and together they entered the church and began to proceed down the aisle.

Nell felt like a helpless animal being led to the slaughter. She could feel the people looking at her from either side, but she stared ahead at the bishop, who was waiting for her at the top of the aisle. He was magnificently dressed in gold vestments, with his white miter hat making him look very tall. He was flanked by six altar servers who were dressed in crisp white cassocks.

What if I told the bishop that I was being coerced into this marriage? What would he do?

Nell and her father stopped before the bishop and Roger came to join them.

The bishop raised his hands and the singing stopped. He spoke clearly, so he could be heard throughout the church. “We are gathered here today to join these two young people in a yoke of concord and an indissoluble chain of peace. This union is blessed by God and is as holy and sacred as is Christ’s love for his bride, the church. It is not to be taken lightly or unadvisedly.” He looked from Roger to Nell. “Do you understand this?” he asked, his face stern.

“We do,” Roger said and, after a brief moment, Nell echoed his words.

The bishop next looked at Lord Raoul. “Who is it who gives this woman in marriage to this man?”

“I do,” Lord Raoul said firmly.

“Do you swear that there is no known reason why this couple may not be joined in holy matrimony?”

I could speak up now, Nell thought wildly. I could tell the bishop I am not willing….

She almost opened her mouth, but then her father said, “I swear that there is no reason why this couple may not be joined in holy matrimony.”

The words of denial just wouldn’t come.

The bishop looked to Roger. “You may take the bride’s hand.”

I am being handed over from one to the other, just like a piece of chattel, Nell thought despairingly.

Roger reached out and took Nell’s hand into his. His large grasp felt warm around her frozen fingers.

She stood next to Roger and they listened as the bishop read to the church the Old Testament passage about the creation of the world: “God created man in His image, in the divine image He created him, male and female He created them. God blessed them, saying, ‘Be fertile and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it.’”

The bishop made the sign of the cross over them, and Roger and Nell turned to take their places at the kneelers on the altar. The bishop started the mass.

The familiar Latin words rolled over Nell, but her mind was on the reading the bishop had just given. The purpose of marriage was procreation. She remembered what her mother had told her about how babies were conceived, and she shuddered. How could she endure such a violation of her modesty?

Her attention went back to the mass when the bishop mounted the pulpit.

The bishop began reading from the book of Matthew: “When Jesus finished these words, he left Galilee and went to the district of Judea across the Jordan. Great crowds followed him, and he cured them there. Some Pharisees approached him, and tested him, saying, ‘Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife for any cause whatever?’ He said in reply, ‘Have you not read that from the beginning the Creator made them male and female and said, “For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh?”’ So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore, what God has joined together, no human being must separate.”

Marriage is a sacrament blessed by God, Nell told herself. This is a holy thing I am doing.

But I always thought I would be a bride of Christ, not of a man! Sybilla should be making this marriage, not me. I should be back in the convent, where I belong, not here, being wed to this stranger.

Now the bishop was coming to the center of the altar to stand in front of them. “My brother and sister in Christ,” he said. “You have come here today to ask the church’s blessing on your marriage. Marriage was ordained by God for the procreation of children, to avoid fornication and for the mutual help and comfort that one might have of the other. Therefore I must ask of you, do you Roger de Roche, take this woman to be your wedded wife?”

“I do,” Roger answered firmly.

“Do you pledge to care for her, to comfort her, to be faithful to her all the days of your life?”

“I do,” Roger answered again.

The bishop turned to Nell. “Do you, Eleanor de Bonvile, take this man to be your wedded husband?”

There was a pause. I could say no, she thought. But she didn’t have the nerve. “I do,” she said in a voice that was scarcely audible.

“Do you pledge to care for him, to comfort him, to be faithful to him all the days of your life?”

“I do,” Nell said.

“Do you have the ring?” the bishop asked Roger, who took a plain gold band from a pouch on his belt.

“You may put it on her finger,” the bishop said.

Roger took Nell’s small, cold hand into his and slid the ring on her finger. It was too big and she had to close her fist to keep it on.

The bishop then spoke to the assembly in the church. “In as much as Roger and Eleanor have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed to it before God and this company, and have given and pledged their lives to each other, and have declared the same by the giving and receiving of a ring, I pronounce that they be man and wife. In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Roger turned his head and smiled down at Nell. She did not smile back.

It’s done, she thought bleakly. It’s been sealed by the bishop in front of all these people. I’m married to Roger de Roche.

Nell listened to the familiar prayers, but she felt detached from it all. She felt numb. It was as though all of this were happening to someone else and all she was doing was looking on. Even when she received the host upon her tongue and bent her head to pray, she felt a distance. This had always been one of her favorite moments of the day; she had felt so close to Christ when she received Him into her own body. But now her words seemed perfunctory, not deeply felt as they usually were. “Help me, Jesus,” she prayed automatically. “Please help me.”

Finally the mass was over and the bishop was coming to stand before them once more. It was time for the last blessing. He raised his hands and began to pray.

The spectator that was Nell bowed her head. Then the six altar servers lined up to process out, and the bishop fell in behind them. Roger gave Nell his arm and they took their places behind the bishop. The choir once more began to chant as the procession moved down the center aisle of the cathedral.

The wedding was over. They joined their families in the vestibule and, after much congratulations, they walked over to the bishop’s residence where the wedding supper was to be held. Nell’s hand rested on the fine linen of Roger’s sleeve. It’s done, she thought sadly. I’m married. She walked beside Roger like an animated doll. I’ve been handed over from my father to Roger. The life I knew is gone for good.

Seven

The wedding supper was held in the bishop’s private dining room and was attended by the bishop, Nell and Roger, Earl Raoul, Lady Alice, and Roger’s grandfather, Earl William. The rest of the congregation was being fed in the sheriff’s quarters in the castle. Behind each of the guests was a squire from Bardney, ready to serve each course as it came out of the kitchen, to fetch more wine, and to bring ewers and basins so they could wash their hands. The Norman aristocracy was fastidious about cleanliness, and since they ate with their hands and shared dishes, etiquette decreed that hands and nails must be kept scrupulously clean at table.

The men carried on the conversation and the talk was about the expected landing of the Empress Mathilda on English soil.

“Stephen has men in position at all the main ports,” the bishop said. “If she tries to land, she will be turned back.”

“There are dozens of small ports along the English coast where she may come in,” Lord Raoul said. “I doubt she’ll try to land at some place like Dover.”

“Robert of Gloucester is too smart to try to come in at a main port,” Lord William agreed. Robert, Earl of Gloucester, was the empress’s powerful bastard half brother. He was the chief English champion of her cause and her main adviser.

“How many men do you think will come with her?” Roger asked.

“I don’t know,” Lord Raoul said. “I don’t think her husband will want to give up any of his men, not while he is engaged in the conquest of Normandy. It’s Mathilda who wants England, not Geoffrey Plantagenet.”

“She wants the crown of England for her son,” Lord William said.