Alys Clare - Girl In A Red Tunic

She was tidying the ledgers on her table, setting everything out neatly in preparation for the morning. She seemed quite serene, although he knew her well enough to realise that this might be a pose adopted to conceal inner turmoil.

But it was quite clear that she was not going to be persuaded to speculate any more tonight.

‘Aye,’ he agreed, with a gusty and regretful sigh. ‘Aye, let us talk again tomorrow.’

Then she blew out the candles and together they left her room and went their separate ways to bed.

Trying to follow her own advice and lose herself in much-needed sleep, Helewise found that it was quite impossible. She had tried so hard to rid her mind of her preoccupations, to remember that she was first and foremost a nun, Abbess of this place that she loved so well, for she knew that she had no right to spend so much of her waking time worrying about her son. He’s safe for the time being, she told herself reassuringly. Thanks to Josse, I now know that. But still I cannot stop thinking about him.

And, as if that were not enough to make her conscience far too active to allow her to relax, there was the question of her memories. Not just of her son — and his brother — as children, as, before this visit of Leofgar’s, she had known them last; also, and possibly even more vividly, of her life with Ivo. Oh, and the visit to the Old Manor had been the summit of it all! To have gone back there, where she lived so happily with Ivo, when already her mind had been full of the past, had been almost too much to bear.

Now there was this business of Arthur Fitzurse and what might turn out to be a true claim on the Warin family. Josse, dear Josse, had realised what he was about to say and stopped, but she had guessed. His extreme embarrassment was because he had been about to speculate that Arthur might be Ivo’s illegitimate son.

He couldn’t be. Well, he could, but, if he were in truth in the mid or late thirties, then Ivo would have to have begotten the boy when he was about fourteen or fifteen … Actually, she thought now, it was entirely possible.

But she did not think it was true. When they had fallen in love and exchanged those precious first confidences, Ivo had made no secret of the sexual encounters he had enjoyed before meeting her. She had not taken it amiss; he had been thirteen years her senior after all and she would hardly have expected him to be totally inexperienced! But he had never mentioned having left any of these women with child. Would he necessarily have known about it if he had? She would have to think it over; it was only right.

But, right or not, she knew she would not dwell for very long on the possibility of Ivo having had a child about whom he had known nothing.

No.

Not when there was another very much more likely candidate for this hypothetical child’s father …

She gave in to the power of the past. Settling herself comfortably in her bed, she closed her eyes and, with no effort whatsoever, conjured up in her mind the day she had first set eyes on Benedict Warin.

It is spring. It is the year 1167, and the youngest son of King Henry and Queen Eleanor is four months old; his name is John. The kings of England and France have fallen out and there is fighting in France, but then there is usually fighting somewhere and it is of no great concern to the young girl who dances in the bright rays of the early April sun that shine down into her small bedchamber.

Helewise feels like singing. Her beloved father, Ralf de Swansford, is coming home! Oh, Helewise gets on perfectly well with her strong-willed and forthright mother; loves her dearly, in fact; but she is her father’s elder daughter and soul mate. And Father has promised to bring home presents for everyone …

Helewise’s mother is the great Emma Caedwalla, and it is said that in her youth her beauty was such that they called her another Helen of Troy. Nobody carried her off with him and started a war, but the stories tell that her poor parents were besieged with lovesick young men desperate to win Emma’s hand until, having enjoyed herself hugely for a couple of years, she settled on her second cousin Ralf and put the rest of them out of their misery. She could, as it happened, have done this far sooner, for she had known Ralf all her life and nobody made her laugh like he did.

Ralf and Emma are both great-grandchildren of a pair who were almost legendary in the history of the region: Cerdic Caedwalla of Sussex and his wife — an heiress in her own right — Hildegarde of Wadehurst. Cerdic was the lord of Swansford, a manor whose lands spread far over the rolling hills in some of the most beautiful country in the land. He claimed proud descent from an ancient British line and said that his ancestor was Caedwalla, the West Saxon king. Nobody knew whether or not this was true but most people found themselves liking Cerdic so well that in the end they didn’t much care. The popular Cerdic had, in choosing a wife, made what to some was a surprising choice. Hildegarde was highly intelligent — as was Cerdic, in a different way — and also both literate and very musical, neither of which talents her husband shared, unless the ability to scratch out your name meant that you were literate and by musical you implied capable of carrying a tune and singing bawdy choruses in a loud baritone. Hildegarde composed hauntingly beautiful holy songs in her spare time and, rare in a largely illiterate age, insisted that each of her four children learn to read and write. She extracted promises from them that they would similarly instruct any children with whom God saw fit to bless them and also take steps to ensure that these children did the same, and so on down through the family, which was why Helewise and her brothers and sister are each the possessors of the rare gift of literacy. The ability to read and write is, as Helewise’s mother says when Helewise tries to avoid her lessons, her great-great-grandmother Hildegarde’s gift, adding that she knows full well that Helewise will be very grateful for it one day.

Cerdic and Hildegarde’s eldest child, a boy, was christened Egfrith and he died of a flux of the bowels when he was eight years old. His two younger brothers, William de Swansford and Eadgar Caedwalla, both had sons who married and in time begat children, two of whom were Ralf de Swansford, grandson of William, and Emma Caedwalla, granddaughter of Eadgar. The marriage of these two produced a quartet of lively, healthy, intelligent and capable children in whom the blood and the energy of the Caedwallas runs strong …

Helewise’s elder brother Rainer is, at the time of this sunny spring morning, now sixteen years old and a squire. He has already achieved his full height, the beginnings of a beard and a manly breadth of shoulder; they mature early, Ralf and Emma’s children. Rainer has bedded several cheerful and very willing kitchen maids and is now moon-eyed over the pretty daughter of a neighbouring knight. Helewise’s younger brother Eudo, aged eleven, is also undergoing the training deemed suitable for a knight’s son, although reports suggest that his heart does not seem to be in it and that he is proving quite a handful. Both brothers are presently away from home, although the households in which they live are not far away.

The last of the four children, Helewise’s sister Aeleis, is ten years old and the beauty of the family, with thick, glossy hair the colour of chestnuts and clear grey eyes fringed with dark lashes. Her wide mouth smiles readily and the skin of her heart-shaped face is creamy and smooth. Everyone tries to pet her, dress her up and spoil her, but she usually manages to slip through even the grasp of her nurse and, dressed in cast-off boys’ clothing that once belonged to her brothers, loves nothing better than to spend the day with the horses and her father’s hounds. Aeleis loves all animals and her devotion to the stable cat means that this large and indolent creature is now too spoiled and well-fed to earn its keep as a mouser. (When Aeleis grows up, this big-hearted and apparently endless well of love will be turned to humans when, after giving birth to her one and only child, she will set about opening her home to foundlings and proceeding to give food, warmth and the hope of a chance in life to many who would otherwise have died young.)