Page 34 of Hers To Command
Bishop Christophus regarded her with undisguised disdain. “You may be able to fool a man like Father Thomas with such claims, my lady, but you are a woman, a creature of the flesh, like Eve. A sinner, like the Magdalen. And despite your lack of beauty, a temptress, like Salome. Roald confessed his sin most humbly, begging absolution. But you—proud, debauched woman that you are—have the audacity to cast the blame for your sin unto another.”
Anger rose in Mathilde, hot and strong. Trying to stifle it, she moved abruptly, knocking her goblet to the ground. Faiga darted forward to pick it up while the wine soaked into the rushes on the floor. That gave Mathilde some time to calm herself before she spoke.
“I know I am not without guilt,” she said. “I freely admit that I was guilty of desire and wrong to go to him. I have confessed to Father Thomas and done penance.”
The bishop’s frown grew pained. “You do not sound penitential.”
Thiswas what he considered most important? What of Roald’s crime against her? Obviously she could expect little understanding or sympathy from this man, so she gave up trying to explain what had happened. “I have begged God’s forgiveness and mercy, my lord bishop, and now I beg yours. Do not let this sin color your judgment, for if you do and you rule against us, more than I will suffer at Roald’s hands. He will not be a kind and generous lord.”
“Will you tell me you are cursed with unnatural foresight, my lady?”
Worse and worse! It could be one step from this question to a charge of witchcraft. “Not at all, my lord. That is what Ifear.”
“Roald is your only male relative. It is God’s plan that women be subject to men. Or do you dispute that, too?”
Mathilde willed herself to think and answer carefully. “Is it not also a child’s duty to be subject to their parents? Should I not then fight for what my father wished above the demands of another? Should I concede to a cousin and defy my father?”
Bishop Christophus laced his fingers and studied her in silence. She forced herself to wait for him to speak, which he soon did. “Your cousin claims he is being robbed of his rightful inheritance. He further claims you act out of rage and spite, and that he is the victim of a lustful woman’s vengeance. You have accused him of a most despicable act—even though you admit you went to his chamber and you brought no charges against him in the king’s court. I would say that was wise, because I doubt there is a court in the land who would condemn your cousin when you freely, shamelessly admit going to his bedchamber.”
Shamelessly? Did he think she felt no shame? “I assure, my lord bishop, I am ashamed of what I did. I regret it every day, every hour, every minute. I will regret it, and be ashamed, for the rest of my life. But although I cannot and will not deny I went to his chamber, I can and do deny that I willingly gave myself to him. We didn’t accuse him publicly because my father hoped to keep my dishonor a secret.”
“Sins of the flesh will always make themselves known,” the bishop said primly. “It is one way God punishes the sinners and sets an example to the rest of us.”
As if he were spotless. Judging by his girth, and the fine cloth of his cassock, he was guilty of gluttony and vanity—and pride, too, she was sure.
“That is not all your cousin had to say to me,” the bishop continued. “I gather there is a knight here, one whose reputation may bring some stain to that of your dear sister.”
Not toher,Mathilde noted. But then, in the eyes of this man, she was little better than Jezebel. “This man Roald is so swift to condemn chivalrously came to our aid when we sought his assistance. He is acting as our garrison commander because ours deserted us after my father’s death.”
The bishop frowned. “That is not the explanation for his presence your cousin gave.”
“There is bad blood between Roald and Sir Henry, my lord bishop. An old quarrel—over a woman, I believe.” She would give no details; let the bishop assume what he would about Roald’s motives for mentioning Henry.
“It isn’t seemly to have a young knight here when there are no male relatives to watch over you.”
“I appreciate thatmyhonor is besmirched,” she replied stiffly, “but I beg you not to malign that of my sister, or Sir Henry, without just cause.”
The bishop’s face flushed, and for a moment, he actually looked contrite. Yet whatever contrition the bishop may have felt, it was short-lived. “Surely it’s understandable that your cousin is most upset by this situation and the conflict between you. Indeed, he’s so dismayed, he’s asked us to pray for him and promised us a new chapter house in humble gratitude for our efforts, as befits a dutiful son of the church. Such men deserve forgiveness, and the support of the church as they seek God’s holy guidance.”
There was an undercurrent in the bishop’s tone her ears were quick to catch. No doubt Roald had promised the bishop more than a chapter house if the bishop declared her father’s later will invalid—something more personal, such as gold or jewels.
Roald had outmaneuvered her with this thinly disguised bribe, and although it sickened her, if Roald had sought to influence the bishop this way, what choice did she have but to do the same?
“A chapter house is most generous, and something the lord of Ecclesford could well afford to provide,” she observed. “We, too, plan to honor our father’s memory with a gift to the church—provided my father’s second will is honored. Otherwise, everything belongs to Roald.” She frowned as if innocently baffled. “But I do not understand how Roald can promise any gifts to the church until his debts, which we have heard are quite considerable, are paid.”
The idea that Roald was deeply in debt didn’t seem to come as a complete shock to the bishop. Perhaps he, too, had heard things about Roald and his financial difficulties, and had wondered the same thing.
She hoped so.
The bishop tapped his foot as he continued to study Mathilde. “Tell me, my child, have you ever considered taking the veil to prove your remorse and redeem yourself in the eyes of God?”
She had not anticipated that question, but it was in keeping with the way this man’s mind worked. If she became a bride of Christ, her inheritance would go to the church. He was probably already thinking of the glory that would come his way when he could claim he had convinced a wealthy woman who was almost a Magdalen to repent and give herself to God.
Unfortunately for the bishop, he was bound to be disappointed. She would rather live and die a spinster in the village than submit to the strictures of a holy life. She must be in the world, not out of it, and she believed God would prefer it that way, too, or He would not make it so difficult for her to be quiet and demure.
The door to the hall banged open and Sir Henry strode into the hall, heading straight for the dais, his sheathed sword slapping his muscular thigh with every rapid step.
The bishop’s acolytes stared as if they’d never seen a knight before, or perhaps it was Sir Henry’s disheveled appearance that took them aback, as it did her. He looked as if he’d been riding at breakneck speed, his hair tousled, his clothes and boots splattered with mud.
