CHAPTER THREE
It was a refreshing early Spring day as the flame-haired Reasea skipped merrily down the much-used path formed through continuous use by travellers rather than by any official method of construction. The young woman felt glad to be alive as she could sense the blood coursing through her veins. No longer was there any need to worry over the cold winds and chills of deep winter which made even her robust spirit less than ebullient. Now soon the flowers would be ripening into colour and the whole countryside would be a majestic pageantry making obeisance to the lords of nature. Reasea shivered slightly, but not in any negative fashion rather as if in anticipation of joyous days ahead.
“Peace be unto you, my daughter.”
Reasea
smiled brightly as she cast her eyes upon Abbot Roger in his black Benedictine
robes. Not far away was located the local Abbey where the Rule of Saint
Benedict was followed although interpreted somewhat liberally by the
incumbents. Abbot Roger was, in Reasea’s opinion, a
very good man, kind and sympathetic and had been a great help to her. Whether
or not he would have found favour with the Holy Father in
“Peace be unto you too, Father Abbot” intoned Reasea in kindly if mock-serious response to the cheerful greeting.
“My dear child what are you doing with yourself these days I had marked you out to be one of the successes of this locality and here you are skipping about like some itinerant peddler of wares.”
“Oh but Father Roger I have benefited greatly from the education that you gave me. I still read my Latin and I can, through your teaching on herbs and potions, effect many a cure where simple-minded physicians fail.”
“Yes tis true, I’ve heard of your good work” nodded the Abbot “and I know also that you have brought the colour back to many a young man’s cheeks - and some not so young I warrant - with your full and open generosity of spirit.”
Reasea
blushed not with coyness but more with amusement and vivacity as
she thanked God that He should have put on earth such an understanding
churchman. If only others were as caring as he and not filled with so much
hypocritical spite and venom. Roger’s Abbey was a place of relaxation and
homeliness not a cold forbidding shell of a building locking out both God and
man. She knew that it was no fault of the Abbot’s if any of his monks were
unhappy or repressed. There was more jollity and laughter there than in some
courts of European kings.
“Where are you going, my Father in God?” remarked Reasea seeking to change the direction of the conversation.
“Why to visit an ageing widow woman who is in need of succour at this time” responded Roger.
“In that case I had better not stop you carrying-out your good works. Peace be with you Father.”
“And you too my Daughter, and might I add” continued the Abbot “as well as being a blessing to all you meet with your deep spiritual sense of well-being and your great learning and wisdom.... “
“Come on, Roger, get to the point!” interrupted Reasea feeling in a mischievous mood.
“As I was saying” continued the Abbot now looking a trifle sternly “I cannot help commenting that you still have the loveliest and longest legs that I have ever seen!”
Reasea and Roger burst-out laughing almost simultaneously, the former remembering how the Abbot could suddenly appear almost over-tedious and then deliberately switch to ribald hilarity. The two friends clutched each other in unaffected familiarity and stood shaking with the exertions of laughter for some moments afterwards. With a boisterous slap across the shoulder Reasea still grinning hugely bid the Abbot farewell and commenced on her journey into the village.
It was one of those days when even if no-one appeared, nature was so full of itself, so prolific in its abundant spirit, that one could be satisfied with just being alive in common with the trees and wood-sprites and delicious scented leaves and shrubs.
“I’m quite a poetess” Reasea thought to herself “what could possibly go wrong today? God really is alive and well and moving serenely about His World.”
As the good young lady continued on her journey whistling gaily and swirling her skirts about to show off her sound limbs to advantage she became aware of raised voices in the forest area. Being of an inquiring if not inquisitive nature Reasea decided to listen-in and moving with some alacrity she hid herself behind an oak tree with its weighty boughs almost limp with venerable age.
“My lady is not in a position to make demands of me, or even give orders.” a fierce grating rasp of a voice seared through the newly burgeoning forest.
“I have noble blood, how dare you presume to talk to me as an equal.” an authoritative voice responded.
“Yes, Godric, you should not chide my mistress so.” A second female voice now responded.
“I will say and do what I like. My lord has benefitted from my service in the past, and even if I am but a Saxon as some would presume to note, it is no matter I am a good and useful servant.”
“You are an arrogant rogue,” the voice of the first lady took up the argument with considerable force. “You have always been on the look-out for the main chance. Why, you have always hated me because I was capable of seeing through you right from the very beginning of our acquaintance.”
“You cannot control me now, lady” snarled the Saxon “give me your jewellery and whatever precious stones you have. I have need of such assistance.... “
Reasea had moved closer to the scene of dissension and beheld a thick-set fair-haired individual with the flimsiest of beards, barely out of his mid-twenties, simply but well-dressed with a short dagger at his belt. He was confronting a tall stately lady also of a fair complexion who in spite of the fierce unyielding statements of the adversary was holding her ground. A smaller darker lady was standing close to her mistress offering considerable moral support. The horses belonging to this little group were tethered close by in comparative tranquillity seemingly unmoved by the disruptions amongst their human companions.
“Do you often threaten people in such a boorish manner, varlet?”
The imprudent man-servant Godric and the two women turned with a start to notice Reasea, who amazed even at her own actions, had moved
boldly forward to
issue this challenge.
“Who the hell are you?” snarled the fair-haired Saxon retainer “some wood sprite peddling your wares in the forest? Although by my honour you are a pretty wench.”
“Are you insulting me, or is that some back-handed form of compliment?” enquired Reasea smiling grimly.
“Well, well, what a sharp tongue you have!” snapped the Saxon.
“And what a thief you are to seek to relieve the young lady of her possessions!”
Godric stared hard at Reasea uncertain of his next move. The uncertainty lasted barely a few seconds, however, before he whipped out his knife and lurching wildly at the intruder sought to inflict some injury upon her. How serious this injury was to be Reasea did not wish to find-out. Side-stepping adroitly, the astute young woman reached down to her right thigh and to the surprise of the Saxon stood with a dagger gleaming in her hand.
“I keep this for protection” snapped Reasea.
In the next instant the long-legged beauty had driven the shaft of the weapon deep into her antagonist’s hand. He yelped agonisingly dropping his own knife but quickly recovering to grasp Reasea by the throat. The latter responded equally dramatically and with a sudden movement brought her elegant right foot crashing straight into her opponent’s solar plexus.
“Godric, you have certainly got your true desserts.” Reasea had almost forgotten that there was anyone but her and the Saxon. The young lady of noble bearing had intervened with this comment. She now did rather more and with one movement grabbed Godric by his long hair as he sought to relieve the intense pain in his lower regions emanating from Reasea’s recent ministrations.
“Thank-you, my new found friend my name is Athelfreda” announced the noble woman to the brave young lady who had intervened so superbly on her behalf.
“Oh yes” continued Athelfreda “pardon my manners but my companion here is Elle” with a pleasant move of her hand she pointed towards the maid-servant.
“My name is Reasea, unusual I know but true nonetheless. Would it be imprudent of me to enquire what all the trouble was about?” asked Reasea.
. “Not in the least” responded Athelfreda “Godric here was getting too big for his boots. I have been a good friend of William Longsword, Earl of Salisbury for a few years now and this varlet has been trying to muddy the waters between us. He fears that his own influence might be lost.”
“The Earl would abandon you if he had any sense” snarled Godric, his eyes blazing fiercely. His contribution to the conversation was smartly curtailed, however, as Athelfreda pulled savagely at his long effete hair and then brought her elbow crashing into his face. The evil servant fell back holding on to his bleeding nose snorting fiercely.
“Well done madam!” commented Elle “can I be of any service?”
“Yes girl find something to bind Godric’s arms with, the sooner he is under control and out of our hair the better.”
“Excuse me Athelfreda” resumed Reasea “but your good friend William Longsword is he not the half-brother of our King John, albeit he was born on the wrong side of the blanket. The King’s late father Henry II was active in more fields than high administration. William Long Espée to use the French was one of Hal’s numerous love-children - a bit of a lad himself I’ve been led to believe.”
“Why my dear Reasea” smiled Athelfreda “William is a man of parts, in fact I probably know all his parts. We have, shall we say, an understanding and his countess is tolerant. Throughout all the troubles of the last few years I have kept him sweet, helped to relieve the stress factor, and in more ways than one made him a more rounded individual.”
“Yes I can see that” grinned Reasea “but what of your own background? If I am not mistaken you have that indefinable quality, that unmistakable class that few possess. Do you have some noble blood in your veins?”
“I am a younger daughter of quite a noble house” responded Athelfreda. “My father was a Saxon, hence my fair appearance and blue eyes. He married a Norman heiress and they were really happy together. Sadly they are both dead now but I still honour them in my heart and hopefully in my life.”
“Do you have any brothers Athelfreda?” pursued the flame-haired Reasea.
“Yes, a younger sibling. However,
because he was a male he inherited the
estate. Humbert is his name and a canny lad for all
that, in fact kindness itself, no-one could want a better brother, a bit
soft-hearted but what’s wrong with that? I would always be welcome at his manor
house but I don’t like to be a bind on anyone. The way I see it make your own
way in life and don’t be dependent on others.”
“And William Longsword is he a kind..... how would you call him ‘a friend’ ?
Athelfreda laughed loudly “He is riotous fun and on top of which he is one of King John’s closest associates as well as being related.”
“Coming back to practicalities” interposed Reasea “would you require some help with Godric here? What are your plans for him?”
“Good thinking, or rather good question” mused Athelfreda.
“I know from past experience that Godric has a silver-tongue in his head. He can talk his way out of most situations. Let’s face it there are no independent witnesses to what has happened and Godric will end-up back in favour again.”
“I know a kindly Abbot from these parts, can I suggest that we take Godric to him and seek his advice. This is no crinkly-faced pompous contemplative that I am talking about but a real genuine helpful individual. He knows the way of the World and he has never ever given me anything but sound advice.”
Athelfreda seemed content with this line of reasoning and so with the three women on horse-back and Godric being led by Reasea, firmly bound, the party made for the Abbey. After the detailed discussions earlier the little group now lapsed into relative silence doubtless absorbing and cogitating upon all the events of the day so far. The forest was soon left behind and the women passed the occasional traveller on their way to their destination. Needless to say there were some odd looks bestowed upon them, it being a trifle unusual to see a young man being led bound by three members of the fair sex. After a bumpy journey over a bridge crossing a lazily-flowing stream the party eventually reached the monastery. The monk on duty recognised Reasea after close scrutiny and bade everyone enter. As indicated earlier walking through this Benedictine House was like no other, there was no cold air of austerity, or grim feeling of disapproval. There was indeed a feeling of joyous intent.
Go to Chapter 4
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