A Nun's Tale

By RD Le Coeur

A tale of forbidden love set in the 12th Century against the backdrop of a power hungry Archbishop who vies for the primacy of all England.
Intrigue, love and tragedy, power this character led saga of a sad and outrageous scandal, the truth of which was suppressed by the church.

• Language: English
• Publisher: RD Le Coeur
• Release date: Nov 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311891457

RD Le Coeur

ROY LE COEURWebsite: www.rdlecoeur.netWelcome to my page folks & thanks for stopping by.Roy was educated at a minor English boarding school and groomed for a life out in the British Empire possibly as a junior official, probably somewhere hot. Unfortunately by the time he graduated the British Empire had expired twenty years prior and no one had told the teachers!Roy is divorced and lives with his two boys and a pedigree Dalmatian dog in South Wales, UK. He has always had a passion for literature, history and for the ridiculous.

Book preview

Chapter One.

12C England during the reign of Henry ii

The slow repetitive bell rang out a tingling death knell across the sparsely attended funeral of Hal's mother and chilled the bones of the already bereft lad.

The Priest spoke in Latin, the attendees mumbled responses in Anglo Saxon and soil was thrown upon the coffin that lay six feet below in the peat black soil.

I'm sorry for your loss, lad. She was a god fearing woman. said Father Paul.

I hope our Lord takes as much time with her, as she did with him. responded Hal.

The Lord takes all penitents and believers to his bosom, my son.

Thank you for the prayers and service, father Paul.

If in any way it comforted you in your hour of need, then my job was well done.

The priest made the sign of the cross above Hal’s head and bade him farewell. Hal was only alone for a moment before he was approached by a good neighbour. A good natured squat fellow, with a straggly beard.

What are your plans, now my boy? asked Oliver.

It all depends on the Reeve, I suppose.

I’m sure Sir Robert will do what he can, after all, your father saved his life in battle.

But Sir Robert is not the manor Reeve and Sir Robert is away. bemoaned Hal, Reeve Wigar has little time for me, Oliver.

I was forgetting there’s a bit of history there, didn’t you rough up his son last year?

I broke his leg. It was an accident, nothing more.

Well that’s as maybe but it never healed proper like and he still walks with a limp.

I’m sure the sly mongrel puts more limp on when he knows folk are watching.

I take it that although you say it was an accident, there is no love lost there then?

He’s a coward and a bully. He uses his father’s position to get what he wants.

Well you are sixteen now and it doesn’t pay to make enemies so early in your life, Hal.

Mother used to say, some fates are cast in the heavens, Oliver.

I could go with you to meet the Reeve, if you like?

Thanks, Oliver I think I could do with some moral support if you are willing.

We’ll go tomorrow. I’m appalled he didn’t come today and only sent a weak excuse via the priest.

Like father, like son. I’ll be off home now after I thank the others for coming and I’ll see you on the morrow.

Hal meandered alone, deep in sad thoughts out through the graveyard and around the stone walled perimeter of the Norman churchyard. He passed through the central village huts strewn closely on either side of the main road to the manor and all the way back to the place he had called home for sixteen years. The thatched wattle and daub cottage was located on common pasture and on the edge of the manor woods. It was dry and warm in the winter and the nearby trees sheltered it from the worst of the winter winds and drifting snow. He opened the gate and scattered the few chickens who had come to greet him. He looked in on his two pigs in their sty and made sure his only cow had not wandered away from her tether. The vegetable patch was just beginning to green up with shoots now that spring was here and he would be glad to add some fresh produce to the repetitive winter provisions which had consisted of a lot of dried beans, pearl barley and split peas.

Just looking at the cottage that he knew was empty, he was filled with sorrow. He was already missing his Mother, probably even more than he had missed, his poor father who had died in the civil war. Hopefully this new king would end all the pointless violence that had seen many families torn apart and bring a lasting peace to this ravaged land. He ate some pottage and began to sort out his mother’s bits and pieces. There was not much to show for a lifetime of hard work and total loyalty to Sir Robert. He had just finished shoving his mother’s threadbare clothes into a hessian sack when Reeve Wigar walked right in unannounced.

Hoped you’d be here, boy. Couldn’t make it earlier, been up at the manor on business.

Reeve Wigar stood a good foot taller than Hal, was muscular in the arm and had a mean pointy sort of bristled face that always reminded Hal of a huge rat.

I was coming to see you anyway tomorrow, Reeve.

Well best get things sorted now, it’s the way of business.

How do I stand?

Sir Robert granted your father and subsequently your poor mother, after your father died, free tenancy in gratitude for your father’s bravery. That debt is now honoured in full.

What exactly does that mean?

That the land returns to Sir Robert and we will seek a new tenant, a paying one that is.

But don’t I have cottager’s rights?

No, boy. You have no rights at all: the land is forfeit to the manor.

That can’t be right, it’s not fair. I’ll petition Sir Robert.

You’ll do no such thing, my lad. he said sternly clenching his large fists. The Lord of the Manor is not to be bothered by the likes of you. You’ve got a week to sort yourself boy, after that it’ll be my personal pleasure to evict you.

What if I won’t go?

That’s easy, I’ll burn you out, you little shit and we’ll build a new home here once the air is clear and the land scoured of your family’s pestilence.

My mother always said that hell waits just around the corner for evil spirited men like you.

Are you threatening me, boy?

How could a mere lad like me threaten a great big man like you Reeve?

Reeve Wigar smiled a sickly smile. He dared not touch the lad as Sir Robert would have his guts for garters. It was wiser to leave this as it was and to let his grand scheme for his son to take over the land until later. He had already planned to tell Sir Robert that the lad, Hal, had absconded knowing full well that Sir Robert would not seek to reclaim him because of the lad’s father’s heroism.

One week and out, boy! shouted the Reeve as he left.

Hal had anticipated the worst and it had come true, but the sheer callous brutality of the Reeve’s intentions angered him, but he was powerless.

Hal, dispirited, finished packing up his mother’s old clothes threw the remains of the pottage to the pigs and decided to call on Oliver rather than wait until tomorrow. He trudged back down the winding path into the village as the light faded and the cool evening air made his breath come out in white wispy puffs.

Oliver’s wife, Winflaed, welcomed him warmly and gave him a hug and more condolences. She was a stout woman with lank dark brown hair who always smelled of bread. It was not an unpleasant aroma and always made Hal feel hungry. She worked in the manor bake house and at home brewed the best ale in the village. Oliver was out visiting a neighbour and would be back any moment. Oliver visiting a neighbour early evening was a euphemism for selling ale. Winflaed had been born and bred in the village and was good friends with Hal’s mother. She was also the village’s biggest gossip and a complete fount of knowledge for the history of the manor all the way from Saxon times.

Winflaed offered Hal some fresh bread and a cup of ale while they awaited the return of Oliver.

He returned before Hal had finished his ale.

Welcome, lad, he said upon arrival home, I hope Win has offered you refreshments?

Best ale in the village. said Hal with a smile.

I thought we was going to meet up tomorrow?

The situation changed late this afternoon. Our bastard Reeve called unannounced. I’m to be evicted and thrown off the land.

What? He can’t do that.

Well he says the manor says it’s their land and they’ll be having it back now that mother has passed and there’s bugger all I can do about it.

Sir Robert will never permit this.

Sir Robert is in France until late spring early summer. said Winflaed.

Looks like he means to have me well off the land before he returns, then.

Why I wonder? said Oliver.

Wigar will have someone in mind for the land, you mark my words. Aha! It’s probably for that snivelling little stoat of a son of his. Yes, that’s it. He needs to do something for him now that his plans to make him train as a man at arms for Sir Robert were dashed when young Hal here busted his leg. said Winflaed.

A man at arms? Don’t make laugh. A girl would make a better man at arms than him! said Hal.

Wigar had ideas of one day seeing him being a squire. said Winflaed.

That’s a joke. The only way he’d become a squire would be if he married a rich woman. remarked Oliver.

But who would want to marry a scrawny, weak, snivelling little stoat like him? asked Hal.

Winflaed you are a genius, said Oliver. I can see the threat to his plans so clearly now. Hal is strong, good looking and not a dullard. Hal would be better suited to train as a man at arms. Hal’s handsome features would be more likely to attract the right wife and in all fairness, Sir Robert has a debt and fondness for Hal’s family. We live in a small pond here, not an ocean and I guess Wigar sees young Hal growing into a whale that must be speared whilst he is still a tadpole.

So what am I to do? asked Hal.

There’s the rub, my lad. With Sir Robert away, Reeve Wigar rules the roost with impunity.

Got any kin you can stay with until Sir Robert returns? asked Winflaed.

Mother’s Sister lives over at Watton. Ain’t seen her nor her husband since I was tiny. replied Hal.

I regret to say that, that sounds like a plan, Hal, although it pains me to say so. Wigar is not beyond foul measures to get his way.

He told me he’d burn me out if’n I didn’t go. said Hal.

Bastard! It’s too dangerous for you to stay, Hal. There could be an ‘accident.’ Have you got any money?

A few shillings that’s all. said Hal.

Well I could buy your cow and pigs if you wanted or you could loan them to me until summer. I’d already agreed with your mother to mate the sows with my boar as you well know. said Oliver.

You wait ‘til I tell Lady Marie what’s been going on whilst she’s been away. We’ve never got to the bottom of how Wigar’s ugly bitch of a wife was found face down in the mill pond two days after they left. Now his house is filled with whores so they tell me. I think Wigar thinks he is Lord of the manor and beyond reproach.

Every dog will have it’s day, Win. said Oliver.

"I’ll loan you the livestock, Oliver but we need it in writing so there’s no skulduggery from Wigar claiming it for the manor." said Hal.

That’s easy and the right thing to do. I’ll get the priest to draw it up tomorrow, but tell him nothing else. I don’t trust father Paul not to claim it for the church, thieving beggars that they are. Besides, he will side with Wigar as he knows which side his bread is buttered. Don’t stay the full time until the end of the week in case Wigar has a sneaky plan in place or an accident. We’ll sort this tomorrow and you leave at dawn the following day. How far is Watton? asked Oliver.

If I can recall, mother used to say that it was three or four days away and she always meant for us to visit but we never did.

I’ll pack you some provisions Hal and Oliver can drop them around when it’s time. Food and hospitality will be hard to find on the roads at this time of the year, so you be careful.

A lad on his own won’t be a target for cut throats Win, they’ll look for richer pickings.

All the same, you take care, my lad and stay safe. I hope your aunt will take you in for a few months and then all will be well.

Thank you both, said Hal.

Chapter Two

The Watton Priory chapter house was cold and lit only by a few flickering tallow candles. Young Sister Bernadette waited alone, sat on a stool, shivering and nervous for the arrival of her peers. The door was flung open loudly, which made her flinch and the senior Sisters trooped in, in a flurry of rustling robes and streaming flashes of grey and white shapes. They took their respective seats behind a long table, hardened mature faces staring at the solitary Sister. The central figure rose,

You have been summoned to Chapter, for your sins, yet again Sister Bernadette. This time for dropping your prayer book during Nones. Asleep again were you? asked Sister Agnes, stone faced.

Sister Bernadette remained silent.

Cat got your tongue, Sister? prompted Sister Agnes.

Sister Bernadette remained silent.

You are now and have always been, a wilful child, Sister Bernadette. continued Sister Agnes.

Don't matter what I do say, you'll have your way as always, Agnes of Hades! retorted Sister Bernadette.

You dare link my name with the realm of the unspeakable! shouted Sister Agnes as she rose from her seat and approached Sister Bernadette. She stood in front of the seated Sister Bernadette for a second or two before striking her as hard as she could across the face. Sister Bernadette shrieked in both shock and pain as she fell from the stool.

I forgive you for your sins against me, Sister Bernadette. said Sister Agnes towering over the prone forlorn figure. In your weakness you have let the evil one control your tongue. The good Lord will show us the path to enlightenment and as his instrument, I will guide you.

Sister Bernadette continued to sob quietly, unbelieving of the twisted malice that stood before her.

For your sins you will be put on bread and water for seven days to purge your body of the evil it sustains. You may now go to your cell and pray for forgiveness. Lord please have mercy on your soul.

Sister Bernadette needed little prompting to leave. She rose to her feet, still holding her hand to her stinging cheek and left the chapter house with barely a look at her inquisitors. Mindful of her predicament she stopped by the kitchen where her childhood friend, Rosie, would give her some apples to hide under her pallet. This would be yet another week of outwitting the starvation diet that Agnes of Hades liked to punish her with. Lord in heaven, she hated that woman.

Did you strike her hard enough? asked Sister Matilda.

I believe so. Sooner or later I will beat the devil out of her. replied Sister Agnes.

I do not know what our Master of the order, Gilbert ever saw in her to make him believe that she was made of the necessary material to take on a religious life.

A mystery to us all, I'm afraid, Sister. replied Sister Agnes.

Do you think we should shun her in the fields and in the refectory for the duration of her punishment? asked Sister Hilda.

Indeed so, a good idea, Sister. Perhaps the extended period of solitude will permit her to contemplate the errors of her ways and bring her more speedily back into the light.

How will that work with her religious instruction Sisters? asked Sister Beatrice who although middle aged along with the rest of them, was a newly arrived from another Gilbertine convent.

That is easy, Sister. replied Sister Agnes. Her religious instruction will compose of her reading the testaments alone in her cell and I of course will instruct her.

What of the Brothers? asked Sister Beatrice.

I will seek out Prior Stephen and advise him this very moment.

Sister Agnes made her way to the Priory church where she knew at this late hour Prior Stephen would be at prayer. It had become his custom to always be the last to leave over this past year, especially on a Wednesday night.

Prior Stephen was not at prayer. He was sat on the last pew at the very rear of the church, his eyes closed and the church almost in total darkness save for a lantern which sat by his feet. He heard the badly oiled oak door creak open and opened his eyes to see Sister Agnes enter.

You are late tonight, Agnes.

Matters of discipline held me up.

Ah, discipline is vital to monastic order. It's been over a week since we last met.

I told you I would be unclean, Stephen.

True, but it seems an age.

They say the best things in life are worth waiting for.

Lord be praised, but they are. Have you transgressed, Sister?

"I have sinned