Moyra Caldecott (24 page)

The boy, amazed at the queen’s agitation, for he had always seen her as a calm and gracious lady, ran as though the hounds of hell were after him and breathlessly delivered her message to the Celt.

Ovin was with her before she reached the crossroads.

‘My lady, what is the matter? What has happened?’

‘Ovin, my friend,’ she said, her face full of relief to see him. ‘I’m sorry if I alarmed you but I need your help. The king has given me permission to do what I have always longed to do, to become a nun in God’s holy service. Because my lord’s moods are sometimes changeable, I decided to leave while he was in the mood to let me go. Bishop Wilfrid has already asked permission of the Abbess Ebba to allow me to join her at Coldingham. Would you be kind to me, my friend, and take a message to the bishop advising him of what has happened and asking him to come to Coldingham.’

‘Of course, my lady, and I’ll ask your women to follow you with your clothes and belongings.’

‘I’ve no belongings, Ovin. I leave the world as I entered it, with nothing but the spirit I had from God, and the body that temporarily clothes it.’

He bowed.

‘I’ll tell my lord bishop where you are, my lady, and then, if you’ll allow it, I’d like to join you at Coldingham. Would you speak to Abbess Ebba for me?’

‘Of course, my friend. But please – hurry now.’ She watched him go and then took one last lingering look at Bamburgh castle perched as high as an eagle’s eyrie. Her time there had not always been happy, but it had been interesting, and although one part of her rejoiced that she at last would be able to live in a monastery, another part of her warned her that she might well miss the challenge, the bustle and the adventure of the worldly life.

Because Ovin went straight to York thinking to find the bishop there and then had to retrace his steps to Ripon where Wilfrid was supervising some new buildings, it was some time before he could deliver his message. As soon as Wilfrid received it he began preparing to leave for Coldingham, sending Ovin on ahead to reassure the queen. Before Wilfrid himself could set off, however, Egfrid arrived unexpectedly at Ripon with a huge entourage, bearing gifts and insisting on setting up a feast at his own expense with delicacies he had brought with him. Wilfrid could not help but look for the hidden claw in the proffered hand, knowing as he did that the queen had left and that in the past Egfrid had been suspicious of their relationship. But he played out the game Egfrid set before him.

Wilfrid’s larder was by no means bare, and his plate and furnishings were as grand as that of any king’s. With Egfrid’s gifts of food and foreign wine the feast was magnificent and prolonged. Throughout they made no mention of the queen.

At last Egfrid stood up and, swaying slightly, took Wilfrid’s arm as though they were the best of friends. ‘Show me your library, prelate,’ he said, his voice slurring. ‘My wife tells me that you have some of the best books in the country.’

Wilfrid conducted him to the library. He had taken care not to drink too much, knowing that he would need his wits about him for whatever Egfrid had in mind. He managed to hold himself in check while Egfrid, his hands still greasy from the feast, handled the priceless, rare manuscripts.

At last Egfrid decided to come to the point of his visit.

‘You’re a man of the world, Bishop, though you talk a lot about God. I need your help.’

Wilfrid raised an eyebrow and waited.

‘Have you nothing to drink in here, man?’ Egfrid said suddenly, looking round impatiently. He saw the shelves of books, the benches and long low tables for the monks to use when studying, light falling only dimly from the narrow windows. ‘This is a gloomy place, Bishop, and my glass is empty.’

Wilfrid went to the door and called a servant to bring wine.

‘You were saying, my lord, that you need my help?’

‘Aye… it is my wife, sir. My wife.’

Wilfrid said nothing.

The king lurched about the room and came to rest at last by one window, gazing out unseeingly at the huge tree that grew outside.

The wine was brought, Wilfrid poured it carefully and slowly. He presented Egfrid with a glass, but took none himself.

‘She has left me,’ Egfrid said as he took the glass.

Wilfrid gave no indication that he knew of this, but kept his face expressionless.

‘You’re a cold fish, Bishop. I tell you that my heart is breaking and you say nothing.’

‘I’m sorry, my king. I don’t know what to say. If it is the Lord’s will…’

‘Of course it’s not the Lord’s Will!’ shouted Egfrid. ‘It was the Lord’s Will that she should marry me. It is her own will that she will not lie with me!’

‘I think…’

‘I don’t want to know what you think, sir. I want you to help me.’

‘How can I do that, my lord?’

‘You can persuade her to come back to me. You can persuade her that what she is doing is not God’s will. God’s will is for her to be a wife to me in every sense. Otherwise why should He give me these feelings for her?’

There was a painful silence between them for what seemed a long time, broken at last by Egfrid.

‘You know what she said to me before she left? She said that she loved me!’ he raised his glass triumphantly a few inches from Wilfrid’s face. ‘What do you think of that? You thought she loved you!’

For a moment Wilfrid’s control broke.

‘Aha!’ cried Egfrid. ‘The man of stone is flesh and blood after all!’

‘I am not of stone, sir. I feel very deeply for the queen, but not as you imply.’

‘I’m no fool, sir,’ Egfrid’s voice was bitter now. ‘I can see through masks as well as any man and I can see what you are thinking when you look at my wife.’

‘I pity you, my lord, if you think the only love there is is of the flesh.’

‘Pity me, do you!’ screamed Egfrid. ‘Well, I pity you too, sir, for you’ll not have her either. She has gone to Coldingham to be a nun.’

Wilfrid stood very still, forcing himself to take control again.

‘It was on my advice that she went there, sir. I think you’ll find, when you have taken time to think, it will be the best for everyone.’

Egfrid’s anger and bitterness suddenly seemed to dissolve in self-pity.

‘I must have her, Bishop. I can’t live without her. Help me to get her back.’

‘I can’t, sir, if she has decided.’

Egfrid took his arm, his eyes full of tears. ‘You can persuade her, Bishop. She’ll listen to you. At Whitby you persuaded the most stubborn-minded people in the world to change their ways. One woman should be easy.’

‘No, my lord.’

‘She loves you Wilfrid. That I know. She’ll listen to you. If you tell her to do anything in the world she will do it.’

‘No.’

‘If you just tell her to come back to me.’

‘No.’

‘I have brought treasure with me. If it is not enough you will have more. Ask for anything you want in my kingdom. You want land and revenues? I’ll give them to you. All you have to do is persuade her that I need her. Is that so much to ask?’

‘It is too much to ask, my lord. I think you should ask yourself how you will face the judgement seat of God when you have made a woman break her oath to Christ for nothing but the lust of flesh for flesh. She is a remarkable woman and has much to give the world in example of holy living. She has given more than ten years of her life to you. Be grateful, and let her go now.’

‘She has given me nothing! Nothing! My country may have benefited. But I have had nothing!’

‘That’s not true.’

‘What do you know of it! Have you stood day after day beside the most beautiful woman in the world, given you by God in holy matrimony, and known that you can never touch her? Never!’

Wilfrid was silent. He too had felt the power of Etheldreda’s beauty.

‘I cannot help you, my lord,’ he said sadly. ‘Cannot. Not will not.’

Egfrid caught the finality in his voice and sat down on a bench, slumped in despair, all fire gone out of him. He laid his head upon his arms on the long table and sobbed.

Wilfrid stood helplessly beside him. He knew this was the time, as bishop, he should have drawn Egfrid’s mind to higher matters, but, as man, he could not. He shared too many feelings with him.

After this Egfrid seemed to give up the attempt to bring Etheldreda back. He hardly left the castle all summer. His skin became pale and sallow, his eyes dull. He did not go hunting and refused even to go down to the harbour to see how the building of his fleet was progressing. Wilfrid visited him several times at Etheldreda’s request, trying to persuade him to consider Cenwahl’s beautiful and intelligent daughter as his queen, but he would not listen. Even Eormenburh found herself rejected and bitterly turned to others for consolation, playing one thegn off against another until the court was in worse ferment than before.

Meanwhile, Etheldreda was living the life of a novice at Coldingham, finding the daily routine congenial where some of the other noble ladies, who had joined on a wave of enthusiasm to be with her, found the discipline rigorous and uncomfortable.

In any monastery periods of time are allotted for adjustments to be made before the full vows are taken, but Etheldreda was impatient to take hers at once and pleaded with the Abbess Ebba to allow her to do so.

‘Should I treat you differently because you are a queen?’ Ebba asked, her eyes gazing with uncomfortable penetration into Etheldreda’s. There was a slight mocking smile on her lips. ‘Is that what you are asking?’

Etheldreda flushed and shook her head.

‘It’s just that…’ Her voice trailed away.

‘It’s just that when you are irrevocably committed.’ Ebba finished for her, her voice still having that slight edge of mockery, ‘you think you will be safe from the desires of your own flesh and the importuning of others.’

Etheldreda was silent, but her face showed that there had been something of this in her impatience.

Ebba shook her head sadly.

‘Oh my child, you of all people should know that “motive” is the key that opens the door, and if you have the wrong motive you cannot enter the room no matter how much you long to do so. Stay with us a while longer. When you’re purged of all that drove you to us in such haste, we’ll think about your vows.’

Etheldreda sighed. She knew the abbess was right.

In the autumn Abbess Ebba relented and summoned Bishop Wilfrid to hear Etheldreda’s final vows of commitment.

Many years later when misfortunes came thick upon him, and he lay manacled in Egfrid’s prison, Wilfrid thought about that day, the pale October light shafting through the chapel windows on to the head of Etheldreda, the fine gold of her hair hidden under her veil, his own heart tugging two ways, for joy at her dedication to a life he knew with part of himself to be the only way for either of them to reach their God, and pain that so much had to be given up to do it. The words he was speaking came through him as though spoken by another. The choir singing seemed bodiless and remote, like the choir Ovin had described at Chad’s death.

‘O Lord,’ he had whispered in his heart, as his mouth gave out other words, ‘may I no longer desire this woman. May our hearts be as chaste as our bodies and Thy Will be all that we desire.’

‘Amen,’ Etheldreda said softly, as though she had heard his secret plea, and, for a second, she looked up and met his eyes.

In November the abbess burst into the dormitory where the nuns were sleeping and called Etheldreda out.

The two women stood in the cold passage, Etheldreda in nothing but her coarse woollen shift, the winter winds whipping under the door at the end and whistling round her bare feet.

‘I’ve just received news that Egfrid has decided to come and take you back, by force if necessary.’

Etheldreda gasped.

‘But…’

‘It seems, from what I hear, that it is not so much his idea as his friends. My information is that since you left he has hardly left his chambers. He sits and sighs and groans half the time, and does nothing. I didn’t tell you of this before because I thought my nephew would soon pull himself together. In fact I’m guilty of the very thing I warned you against, wrong motive. I agreed to your taking your final vows as soon as I did because I thought that once that was done, he would accept the fact, and return to living his own life. But it seems it hasn’t been the case.’

‘My poor Egfrid! Why did God ever make me come into his life? I have done him nothing but harm!’

‘What? Questioning God’s good sense?’

Etheldreda winced at the older woman’s sharp taunt.

‘What am I to do? I can’t go back.’

‘No, of course not. We must make a plan. Come, we’ll go to my room.’

The two women were about to leave when the door of the dormitory creaked. Ebba pushed it sharply and revealed a whole group of women crowded round it trying to hear what they were saying. Ebba couldn’t help laughing at their expressions.

‘Well, seeing that you are awake we might as well have our discussion here.’

Among the women in this particular dormitory were some who had been at Ely with Etheldreda. Their love of God was sincere, but often became confused with their love of Etheldreda. They would follow her anywhere and suffer anything for her. It was decided that she and those who would not be parted from her should leave just before dawn, making for the south as fast as they could, hoping eventually to reach Ely where, among her own people and protected by the fens, she would be safe.

It was already time for vigils and Etheldreda insisted on staying for this service before she left. She put her head down before the altar in the great cold chapel and gave herself into the protection of the Lord.

She was still praying when Ebba hurried in and pulled at her arm.

‘You must go, my child. Egfrid and his men have been sighted not far from here.’

She allowed herself to be bundled into her cloak and onto a horse, her women friends chattering excitedly around her. She saw the great bulk of Ovin beside her and felt a wave of relief that he was coming with her. He took her bridle and led her out, warning her to duck her head beneath the old black beam of the stable door. The air was crackling with cold around them, the grass white with frost. As the horses breathed, great puff-balls of mist rose from their nostrils.