Chapter Seventeen Hilda and Elflaeda
Chapter Seventeen
Hilda and Elflaeda
AELFWYN WATCHED LEOFRIC mount Windraes. She pulled her flapping robes around her, remaining where she was as he reined the horse south.
He did not look back.
When he disappeared over the brow of the windswept hill, she turned and faced her destination: Streonshalh Abbey. The setting sun had burnished its wooden fence bronze. Smoke rose somewhere inside the perimeter, where presumably the nuns would be preparing the evening meal.
Aelfwyn breathed in slowly and deeply. Leofric’s kiss had unbalanced her; even now she could still feel the lingering touch of his lips on hers.
She could not bring herself to be angry at him.
The kiss had been chaste, although her body’s initial reaction to it had not—until memories of the night Ecgfrith had used her had rushed in and extinguished the warmth of his touch.
The wound the king had inflicted on her, a wound no one could see, had barely scabbed. One kiss had ripped it open.
Aelfwyn blinked back tears. Be strong, she berated herself. You can’t crumble, not now.
She wished Leofric had not made that promise. It was foolish and risky on his part; King Ecgfrith’s men still hunted them both. He needed to get himself as far as possible from Streonshalh—and fast.
I should have refused him. I should have told him to leave tonight.
But she had not.
Slowly, she began walking toward the abbey.
Inside, she heard the bell clanging, hailing the nuns to prayers.
Soon that bell would mark her days. Leofric had just escaped from such a life.
Yet she and Leofric were not alike. He was wild and free—keeping him locked up in a monastery would be like trying to harness the North Wind.
Instead, she sought solitude and peace. Rather than a life of religious contemplation, she sought a haven from the world of men, and the abbey would provide it.
Aelfwyn lengthened her stride and headed toward the gate, toward a fresh start.
Abbess Hilda of Streonshalh Abbey fixed Aelfwyn in a clear, gentle gaze. “You have traveled far, child. You must be exhausted.”
Aelfwyn nodded. After recounting her tale to the abbess she felt exhausted, drained.
Hilda, a handsome woman who looked well into her fifth decade, had listened to her tale in silence. She had not even flinched when Aelfwyn spoke of the rape, although Aelfwyn had seen the tension in her shoulders, the flash of outrage in her eyes.
Dressed in a flowing white habit, a blue veil covering her hair, the abbess was a sobering sight.
She had a face that would have been beautiful in her youth: high cheekbones, bright blue eyes, and a sculpted mouth.
But it was her manner that put Aelfwyn at ease: gentle and softly spoken with an air of quiet strength.
Aelfwyn wondered what the abbess thought of her slanderous allegations. The abbey was under the protection of the King of Northumbria. In her relations with Ecgfrith, the abbess had to tread carefully.
They sat alone together in the library—a cool, peaceful space—at a small table. A shelf with a handful of leather-bound volumes sat along one wall. The greasy smell of tallow hung in the air from the many candles burning along the walls.
“Do you believe me, Mother Abbess?” Aelfwyn ventured.
Hilda met her gaze and nodded. “There is no lie in your eyes, child.”
“You will not turn me over to the king?” Aelfwyn did not want to ask the question, but it burned within her. She had to know if she could trust Hilda.
The abbess’s expression grew stern, her mouth thinning. “Ecgfrith is not the man his father was. He is my lord, but that does not mean I condone what he has done.”
Aelfwyn watched her, silently impressed by Hilda’s open defiance of her king. She felt a pang of guilt for bringing such trouble to the abbess’s door. To risk so much for a complete stranger was generous indeed. Yet desperation made Aelfwyn seek assurance. “So I can remain here?”
The abbess smiled, her face softening. “A nun’s life is not for everyone.
Of course, we will welcome you among us, if that is what you truly want, but you may stay here as an aspirant first. Once a few days have passed we will discuss whether you are ready to become a postulant, or whether a different life would suit you. ”
Anxiety twisted Aelfwyn’s belly. “But there’s nowhere else for me to go. I can’t go back to Bebbanburg or Rendlaesham.”
Concern clouded Hilda’s deep-blue eyes. “Do not worry so,” she said, reaching forward and placing a cool hand over Aelfwyn’s. “No one is casting you out.”
Hilda rose to her feet with a rustling of crisp robes. “Come. It grows late, and you have not eaten. I will take you to the refectory. There will be food left over from supper.”
Aelfwyn nodded, grateful for the abbess’s kindness. She was indescribably weary and her temples throbbed.
Hilda sat her down at a freshly scrubbed oaken table while she fetched a wooden platter of bread, cheese, and apples from the adjoining kitchen. A large hearth dominated the far end of the refectory. Embers glowed dully in the fire pit, casting a soft glow over the shadowed walls.
Aelfwyn ate quickly, although with the abbess watching her she tried to mind her manners. Hilda observed her with unnerving intensity, as if considering something.
“It’s a long way from Bebbanburg,” Hilda said finally, “and although you are weary and hungry, I find you in a remarkably fit state. Did you receive help on the journey?”
A chill slithered over Aelfwyn’s skin. She had not wanted to lie to Hilda about how she had managed to reach Streonshalh.
Instinctively, Aelfwyn knew it was best to leave Leofric out of her tale.
“Aye, Mother Abbess,” she replied huskily.
“A family traveling south on the road out of Bebbanburg gave me passage for a spell, and the folk of the villages I passed showed me great generosity by giving me food and drink.”
Hilda gave a gentle smile. “The Lord was certainly looking over you, to bring you safely to our door.”
Aelfwyn forced herself to return the smile although her meal now sat queasily in her belly. God would surely strike her down for her lies.
Sister Elflaeda was lying on her sleeping pallet, drifting between wakefulness and sleep, when the creak of the door opening roused her. Bleary-eyed, she pushed her curtain of dark hair from her eyes and propped herself up onto her elbows.
“Who goes there?”
A young woman stood in the doorway. Pretty, blonde, and dressed in a travel-stained blue woolen overdress and tattered linen tunic, the girl carried a guttering clay cresset.
The two other nuns that shared the dwelling stirred, peering up from the edges of their blankets at the newcomer like sleepy owls.
The girl ignored them, her gaze fixing upon the nun who had addressed her.
“Are you Elflaeda,” she whispered.
“Sister Elflaeda,” the nun corrected her with an imperious tilt of her head. “Who are you?”
“My name is Aelfwyn. The abbess has told me that I should sleep here.” Elflaeda heard the nervousness in the young woman’s voice. “She also asked that you go to her; she wishes to speak with you.”
Elflaeda rose from her pallet and reached for her habit.
She dressed quickly before realizing that the girl—Aelfwyn—was still standing there watching her.
Elflaeda made an impatient noise and motioned to the empty pallet beside the door.
Until three weeks ago, it had belonged to Sister Hereswith—until a fever claimed her life.
“You can sleep there.”
Elflaeda made her way across the starlit yard between the squat, thatch-roofed dwellings where her sisters slept. A chill breeze caught at her veil and whipped her habit against her legs, but she paid it no mind.
She frowned as she approached the annex attached to the back of the church: Abbess Hilda’s house. Life at Streonshalh Abbey was one of rigid routine—early to bed, early to rise. The abbess never summoned her this late.
Elflaeda halted before the door to the house and knocked gently.
“Enter.”
She obeyed and found the abbess sitting on a stool by her sleeping pallet, a leather-bound book of prayers in her hands.
Although larger and better built than Elflaeda’s own dwelling, the abbess’s home contained few possessions.
Fresh straw covered the ground, and apart from a wooden cross above the abbess’s sleeping pallet, nothing else adorned the walls.
“Sister Elflaeda,” the abbess greeted her with a smile. “I apologize for the lateness of my summons—please come in and shut the door.”
Elflaeda did as bid although the tension in the abbess’s shoulders concerned her. “Is something amiss, Mother Abbess?”
Hilda motioned to the low stool opposite her. “Please take a seat, Sister.”
Elflaeda perched on the stool although her nervousness was growing by the moment. Why was the abbess behaving so strangely?
“You have shown Aelfwyn to her sleeping pallet?” Hilda asked.
Elflaeda nodded, her curiosity piqued.
The abbess’s gaze met hers. “Aelfwyn traveled here from Bebbanburg to seek our protection.”
The younger woman frowned. “Our protection?”
“Yes, she has endured much.” Hilda’s mouth tightened as she said these words. “She was handmaid to King Ecgfrith’s new queen, Aethelhild.”
Elflaeda knew about her brother’s recent marriage, although she did not see what it had to do with the girl.
“The king forced her,” Hilda continued. “He raped her.”
The nun stared at the abbess, shocked by her stark words, as much as the admission itself. “Who? The handmaid?”
Hilda nodded. “Aelfwyn fled from Bebbanburg at dawn the next morning, and has been running ever since.”
Elflaeda blinked. She felt slightly numb, as if they were not talking about her brother, the King of Northumbria. Eventually, she found her voice. “You believe her?”
“I do.”
Anger curled in the base of Elflaeda’s stomach. She had never been close to her elder brother, but she would not have a lowborn girl spread slander about him.
She respected the abbess deeply, looked up to her as a beacon of goodness and piety, but she was shocked Hilda would take the word of a servant girl over that of her own king. Still, she was careful not to let her feelings show on her face.
“I know this is difficult, Sister Elflaeda.” Hilda’s voice gentled. “No one likes to hear ill of their kin.”
“My brother would not rape a woman,” Elflaeda replied stiffly. “I cannot believe it.”
Hilda held her gaze, understanding in her eyes. “The truth is sometimes ugly. Aelfwyn is terrified of the king. She believes he will send men after her to bring her back to Bebbanburg.”
Elflaeda choked back scorn. Who did this wench think she was?
To think herself worthy of a king’s attention—to make up vicious lies about Ecgfrith.
Elflaeda clenched her fists, although taking care to keep them hidden in the folds of her robes.
She had a good mind to storm back to that lying slut and rake her fingernails down her face.
With great self-control, Elflaeda managed to rein in her anger and keep her expression neutral.
“What will you do with her, Mother Abbess?” She kept her voice low, respectful even if she was seething inside.
“I have agreed to let her stay here as an aspirant. If she takes to life at Streonshalh, she can take her vows.”
The nun could still her tongue no longer. “You will take her word over the king’s, Mother Abbess?”
Hilda fixed the younger woman in a cool, penetrating stare; one she had seen her use with other nuns but never her.
Elflaeda had always been a favorite. “I called you here as a courtesy so that you would hear it first from me,” she said, her voice iron cloaked in silk.
“I hope you won’t cause me to regret doing so. ”
“Of course not, Mother Abbess,” Elflaeda replied hurriedly, swallowing her indignation and casting her gaze downward, feigning contrition. “I only wished to be sure of the girl’s words—after all, she is a stranger to us.”