Chapter 16 #2
It was all stupid, but no more so than a hundred other incidents in which government had become embroiled.
What worried Galeran was that such matters could get out of hand.
He didn't want to worry the women, however, so he smiled at Aline and Winifred.
"Probably Jehanne will be the better of some tranquility.
She's had little enough of it the last year. "
With that he left, and allowed himself to be herded out of the convent with only one backward look at Jehanne's locked door.
* * *
Aline sat back down on the hard bed, thinking. She wished she'd been able to talk to Galeran in private, for she didn't like this situation at all. She needed to talk to Jehanne as well and make plans. What if some silly judgment were made to give Donata to Lowick? They had to be ready to act!
In the short journey from Corser Street to the convent, Jehanne had ordered Aline to keep Donata safe at all costs. But how could such a young baby be safe away from her mother?
No, if the worst happened, they had to be ready to escape together. It shouldn't be impossible. The convent wasn't guarded. All that held them was locked doors.
She went to inspect the door, and discovered locked doors could be quite formidable. This one was thick, iron-strapped oak, and the lock was heavy iron too. It seemed strange that a convent have such secure rooms, but perhaps they were often called upon to hold prisoners.
Winifred just sat looking quietly miserable, but Aline paced. Perhaps it would be better to wait patiently for the morrow. Any attempt to escape could be seen as rebellion against the king's orders.
She didn't know enough about such things.
She desperately needed to confer with Jehanne.
Donata began to stir, and Winifred picked her up, obviously pleased of something to do. The baby looked around, chewing on her knuckles.
"She'll want feeding in a moment or two," said Winifred. "I'll change her."
Then Aline had an idea. She picked up her embroidery materials and the babe's blanket.
With quick stitches she worked along the edge the message, What do you want to do?
adding some ornamental stitches to disguise the words.
Surely Jehanne would notice that the work was new and decipher the message.
When Donata was ready, Aline wrapped her in the blanket, making sure the stitchery was visible but not too clear, then went to the door and called out. In moments a smiling nun took the baby, cooing to her, and carried her away.
Aline was reassured by the nun's friendly manner, but it made this imprisoned separation even more peculiar. What was behind it, and did it have any implication for the crucial hearing before the king?
It would be a while before Donata returned, for Jehanne would surely keep her as long as possible, so Aline sat and took up her more normal embroidery.
She kept making mis-stitches, though, for her mind wasn't on it.
In addition, the light from the small, high window wasn't really adequate for fine work.
She wished she had her distaff. She could spin thread in the dark.
One problem suddenly occurred to her. She didn't think Jehanne had any needlework materials with which to reply.
Winifred lay on her bed and went to sleep. Aline envied such placidity.
* * *
Jehanne saw the embroidery immediately, but she settled to feeding Donata, in part because the middle-aged sister was hovering, gazing besottedly at the baby.
Another nun who perhaps was not suited to her life?
Jehanne decided Raoul was right, no matter what his motives were.
If Aline wanted a husband and children, she should find that out before committing herself to the veil.
Donata, bless her, did not seem to be finding her situation bothersome. She nuzzled impatiently at Jehanne's breast, then latched on to it and settled—with an amusing sigh of relief—to filling her belly. Sister Martha left, and Jehanne could loosen the blanket to smooth out the new embroidery.
She laughed out loud. Clever Aline!
Her amusement faded, however. It was an excellent question. What did she want to do?
Jehanne had made, and intended to keep, resolutions to stop being so militant. Days earlier, she had promised to leave matters in Galeran's very capable hands.
But in this crisis she was not sure he was capable. He'd told her about Agnes, the woman taken in adultery, and the solution that had come from her punishment. Even so, he couldn't, or wouldn't, see that their situation was the same.
Jehanne knew she had to suffer some punishment for her sin, and as she had said, in a way she would welcome it.
It was not just that the community must see matters put right; she herself must feel that the balance had been made even again.
Until she did, she wasn't sure she could let herself be happy again.
A court battle would do nothing to put matters right in her heart. Especially a court battle between the two men who had given her a child, a battle in which one of them must die. She simply could not live with that.
Thanks to Bishop Flambard, however, Jehanne now had a means to ease her soul, and possibly to prevent any fighting. But she couldn't do it by patiently staying here until it was all over.
When Donata was satisfied, Jehanne unwrapped the babe and laid her on the bed. As she played games with her daughter, moving her arms in time to nonsense songs, she considered the bishop's unexpected involvement with her imprisonment.
The king had ordered their detention here, but Bishop Flambard had ordered had to tell Mother Eadalyth of Jehanne's wicked sin to get the woman on his side.
It was Flambard, too, who had ordered Jehanne's specific punishment—ten strokes of the rod every three hours. She did not thank him for that, but it could well save them all, in more ways than one.
Mother Eadalyth had no kind thoughts about Galeran, either.
"A man who would permit such sins to go unpunished is a sinner himself," she had declared while rolling up her sleeve for the first serving not long before Galeran's arrival.
"He is like Adam succumbing yet again to Eve.
You are to be pitied, my child, for being so poorly ruled. "
Jehanne wondered if the mother superior had modified her views at all on meeting Galeran. He wasn't the convincing picture of a weakly doting husband. But as long as he refused to punish her, that was what everyone would think.
And of course he was doting, she thought, smiling sadly at her bastard daughter. Though not weak about it. He doted on her just as she doted on him. They would both fight and die in the other's cause.
That was the problem.
But since she'd caused the disaster, it was for her to sort it out and to suffer any pains, even if Galeran were furious afterward.
She grimaced, acknowledging that she was failing in her resolutions of being a proper woman, able to wait patiently for the men to sort it out. It wasn't her nature, though, and so she could do only as she saw right and pray God to guide her.
What was right at the moment was to accept her punishment, galling though it was, and then use it as a weapon against the bishop. But that meant she must attend the hearing the following day to show her back, to show the king how Flambard had overridden his orders.
The mother superior would never permit it.
Galeran wouldn't cooperate, either. In fact, if she let him know about the beatings, he'd put a stop to them. But Raoul might be more practical if she could get a message to him. The only way of doing that was through Aline. She couldn't imagine how, but it was the only chance.
She had no embroidery tools with her, unfortunately, so, leaving Donata to kick and chortle by herself, she searched the room for anything that would make a mark.
She found nothing, but the floor was simple beaten earth, and so she made mud with a little drinking water and laboriously printed a message on the blanket.
Jehanne could read, but did very little writing, and with the inadequate materials the message looked more like a mess than words. She could only hope Aline would decipher it. Hearing footsteps, she hastily wrapped Donata again, and handed her over to Sister Martha.
Then she went to her prie-dieu to pray, and to wait for Mother Superior Eadalyth's strong right arm.
In simple honesty, she offered her pains up to God and His mother, seeking forgiveness for her sin, but, more important, protection for Galeran and Raymond.
She cared not at all for Raymond of Lowick, except as someone she had known most of her life, but she knew that she had entangled him in this mess.
In order to strike against God.
She shuddered at the thought.
Oh, yes, she deserved every stroke Bishop Flambard had ordained for her. She could almost bless him, if not for a certain crossbow attack, which she was sure was Flambard's work. Raymond would never stoop so low.
Sometime later she heard the lock turn and the door open. A faint rustling told her the mother superior was rolling up her wide outer sleeve.
"May the Lord forgive his wretched sinner," intoned Mother Eadalyth, and the rod cut.
"Amen," Jehanne responded as steadily as she could.
Dear Mary, help her, but the strokes hurt more on her already-sore back. She gripped the wood of the prie-dieu and strangled all noise other than a gasp at each stroke. She counted them silently.
Another four.
She could endure another four.
Another three.
Two.
Last one.
It almost broke her and made her weep, the relief that it was over.
For this time.
In another three hours, however, or another six, she would cry out. All people had limits. Her pride shuddered at the thought of wailing under the blows, but pride was a silly thing.
As the lock turned behind the departing mother superior, Jehanne lowered her head and prayed, offering her pain for the safety of all, and victory in the end.
* * *