Joan Wolf - To The Castle

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.

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.

“Aye,” Lord Raoul agreed. “Just as Stephen wants to keep it for his own son.”

Roger dipped his meat into the dish of sauce that was between him and Nell. “What do you think will happen when she does land?” he asked.

“We’ll have to wait and see how many barons go over to her side,” Lord Raoul replied.

Roger brought the piece of meat back to his trencher. “Brian fitz Count has always been one of her supporters.”

“Yes,” Lord Raoul said. “And a few men from the west may go over to support Gloucester. That’s where she’s going to find her chief support—in the west.”

Nell listened to the men talk, but the reality of what they were saying didn’t penetrate her tense self-absorption. All she could think of was what was going to happen between her and Roger when the feast was over.

“Civil war is an ugly thing,” Roger said somberly.

“We have the power to protect our own,” Lord William said.

“Yes, there will be few who will want to antagonize us, not with this alliance we have forged.” Lord Raoul sounded very satisfied.

The bishop had been largely silent while the earls spoke, but now he said, “The Bishop of Winchester is Stephen’s brother. That will help him with the church.”

The conversation continued as the meal was served: soup, roasted pork and mutton with various sauces, green beans and green leaves for a salad, all served on fresh white-bread trenchers and washed down with red wine.

Nell could barely eat. Her mother looked at Nell’s almost-full plate and started to urge her to eat more, then fell silent. Instead, she reached over and squeezed Nell’s hand, where it lay loosely in her lap. Nell turned to her mother in surprise and Lady Alice gave her an encouraging smile.

The meal was finally finished and all the men turned to look at the two women who were seated side by side.

“I believe it is time for you and your daughter to go upstairs,” Lord Raoul said to his wife.

“Yes,” Lady Alice said. She stood up. “Come along, Nell.”

Nell stood up, as well. Lady Alice took her hand in a warm, reassuring grip, and Nell followed her to the door and up the stairs to the bedroom where she had slept alone last night. Gertrude was there, waiting for her.

“You must disrobe,” Lady Alice said. “Then the bishop will come to bless your bed.”

Nell stared at her mother out of enormous dark blue eyes. “I can’t do this, Mama. Please don’t make me do this.”

“This is something that all women of your class must do,” Lady Alice said briskly. “Believe me, Nell, having a husband is far better than not having one. Every one of my ladies would give the world if they could change places with you.”

“I would change places with them happily,” Nell said despairingly.

Lady Alice’s voice sharpened. “Remember who you are, Nell. You are the daughter of the Earl of Lincoln. Don’t shame your father and me by playing the coward. You are wed to a fine young man. You should appreciate that.”

Nell was silent. It was clear that she wouldn’t get any sympathy from her mother. Her mother thought she should be happy about this wedding.

I have to do this, she thought. Please, Lord, please help me to be brave.

Lady Alice and Gertrude stripped Nell down to her chemise and her drawers. They would have gone further, but Nell wrapped her arms around herself. “Can’t I wear my nightgown?” she pleaded.

“No,” Lady Alice replied. “But I have brought a night robe with me. Put it on and you can finish undressing underneath it.”

She handed Nell a rich blue velvet robe that was open in the front and tied around the waist with a matching velvet belt. Nell put it on, turning her back on her mother and her maid, and slipped off her chemise and her drawers and drew the robe close around herself.

The velvet was very warm. Too warm for the bedroom, but Nell didn’t care. It covered her up; that was all that was important to her.

There was a silver pitcher of wine on the table under the window and Lady Alice poured Nell a glass. “Here, drink it. It will help.”

Nell still wasn’t used to wine, but she took the glass and swallowed a sip. Her eyes watered and she handed the silver goblet back to her mother. “It tastes terrible,” she said.

“You will learn to like it,” Lady Alice said.

I don’t think so, Nell thought rebelliously. I don’t think I’ll learn to like anything about what is happening to me tonight.

The sound of men’s voices floated through the thick wooden bedroom door. Involuntarily, Nell tightened the robe about herself. There was a knock on the door. Lady Alice called, “Come,” and the men entered the room.

The first thing Roger thought when he saw Nell was how lovely she looked. Her hair had been taken out of its braids and it flowed in a loose silken stream down her back. She was wearing a blue velvet robe, like the light woolen robe that covered his own nakedness. She looked so small and delicate as she stood next to her mother. She wasn’t looking at him.

The bishop stepped forward. He was carrying holy water in a small gold bucket and he dipped the shaker into it and sprinkled the bed. “I bless this bed and this marriage,” he said as he sprinkled. “May Roger and Eleanor follow your will, O Lord, and be fruitful and multiply. May they see their children like olive plants around their table. May the Lord so fill them with all spiritual benediction and grace, that they may so live together in this life, that in the world to come they may have life everlasting. Amen.”

“Amen,” everyone in the room with the exception of Nell echoed.