The Innocent by Bertrice Small Page A

otherwise after I am gone." He coughed, his face paler than usual.
    "Perhaps now she is to inherit your manor," Ranulf de Glandeville said, "she might decide she prefers to marry."
    Richard shook his head. "I think it more likely she will give Ashlin to her order. They will do with it what is best for them. Marriage is not for Elf. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall sleep. I am very weary despite the fact all I do is lie here day after day."
    Ranulf de Glandeville sought his own bed space, nodding to the young serf who had come to sit by his master. To the knight’s surprise there was a small stool by the bed space with a basin of warm water. He washed the grease of his supper from his hands and face gratefully, drying them on the small linen cloth with the ewer. What a shame his young hostess had chosen the church over marriage. She would make a fine chatelaine of any man’s manor. Pulling off his dalmatica, he laid it aside, and unlaced his corselet, a tight-fitting leather jupe, and set it out of the way, too. Then he removed his boots. He would sleep in the rest of his clothing. He needed to pee, and so walking across the hall, he let himself outside to complete the task, then returned inside, carefully barring the door again.
    A serf awoke him shortly after dawn. There was hot oat stirabout, fresh bread, cheese, butter, and brown ale to break his fast. Having eaten his fill, he went to Richard de Montfort’s side, where Elf was even now copying out a second parchment of her brother’s will. She looked up at his approach, the expression on her young face serious. He sat silently by the lord’s side. Richard’s eyes were closed, his breathing labored. Ranulf de Glandeville crossed himself, and folded his big hands in prayer. They were hands more used to battle than supplication, and his hazel eyes could not help but stray to the earnestly bent head of the girl as she wrote.
    "There, only one more to copy," she finally said. "It is not a long document, sir. I will try not to keep you. You must be eager to be on your way as your business is for the king." Then she bent her head again over her task.
    He picked up one of the parchments. It had been dictated in a straightforward manner. Richard de Montfort, right lord of the manor of Ashlin, being childless after nine years of marriage to his lawful wife, Isleen de Warenne, leaves said manor with its lands, its serfs, its buildings, its livestock, and all of his possessions to his only heir, his sister, Eleanore de Montfort. The will went on to note that Isleen’s dowry portion should be returned immediately to her family. Here Ranulf de Glandeville raised an interested eyebrow. The de Warennes had been most generous, perhaps a bit overgenerous. They had obviously been quite eager to rid themselves of this daughter. Curious, he could not help but wonder why. The lady was quite beautiful and from an excellent family. The will went on to commend Richard de Montfort’s wishes to His Majesty, King Stephen, and to his lordship, the Bishop of Worcester. The bishop was awarded six ewe lambs and a young ram for his trouble.
    "I have finished, sir," Elf’s voice broke into his thoughts.
    The knight looked up to see Richard de Montfort signing each document, and sealing them with his seal both by his signature and on the rolled-up document’s exterior. The lord of Ashlin had to be braced by a servant so he might sit up enough to scrawl his signature and press his seal into the hot wax. Before he did so, however, Ranulf de Glandeville signed each will in witness.
    "What is it you are doing?" Isleen had entered the hall, Saer at her side.
    They were a beautiful couple, Ranulf thought, fascinated by their appearance.
    "I have dictated my will to Elf," Richard said softly. "Ranulf de Glandeville has witnessed it, Elf has made copies, and now our good guest will deliver a copy each to the bishop in Worcester, and the king, so my wishes will be carried out with expedience. Elf will