‘Thank you, sire. Let’s see if an ageing, one-armed knight appeals to her as much as I did when I was a young man.’
‘Worry not, Ranulf, you’re a hero of the Great Crusade, of England and of the Empire. Besides, when we return home, you will be a rich man; that is usually a key to unlocking a woman’s heart. I have some favours to call in while I am in the Low Countries, and intend to sail for England from Antwerp in the second week of March. Meet me there.’
My life, and that of the King, had suddenly taken a dramatic turn for the better – especially in contrast with the black days we had just been through.
The journey to Rupertsberg gave me time to reflect. I was weary of travel in distant lands and of the toils of war. The thought of rekindling my passion for Negu suddenly became very appealing. It would need to be a clandestine arrangement if she wanted to continue as a nun. But if the Lionheart was true to his promise, and would create a foundation for her within my lands in the north of England, we could control our own destiny. Although they had turned sixty and would now be in their dotage, my mother and father were still alive, as far as I knew. I was desperate to see them before they died and make them part of my peaceful future within the King’s Empire. I wanted to tell them about my adventures and see them take pride in what I had done.
My life with the Lionheart had been an astonishing journey for me. There had been much hardship and not a little pain, but what I had gained in return was worth almost any price. The loss of Alun and my absence from my parents were my only real regrets, but I had become reconciled to both. Losing Negu was also a blow, although it had been her choice and one that was, under the circumstances, inevitable. Perhaps, now that things had changed—
But then I pinched myself; a new beginning with Negu was an unlikely prospect. I had not seen her for years, and much had happened to both of us in the meantime.
I was full of nerves when I reached Hildegard’s famous foundation at Rupertsberg, especially when I announced myself at the gates and asked for Sister Negu. I had washed and cleaned the Hospitaller’s mantle and cape I still wore, and had trimmed my hair and beard. The young novitiates on duty scurried inside, giggling as they went, making me feel like a young knight paying his first call at the household of the young maiden he wished to court.
I was asked to wait in the cloisters, where I sat and watched the nuns quietly at prayer. I was the subject of a few stares and whispers – and, no doubt, much speculation about my hook for a hand.
‘I am told a mighty crusader is here to see me.’
The voice came from behind and startled me.
‘They said you look like you have fought many battles… and that you only have one arm.’
Negu had hardly aged. I could only see her face, framed tightly by her wimple, but it had almost no wrinkles. Her eyes shone brightly, her figure seemed trim and she had the self-confident bearing of a mature woman of the Church.
‘I see I find you well; you have obviously flourished here at Rupertsberg.’
‘I have, indeed. I see that you have also prospered, if with a few scars to prove it.’
‘They are a price worth paying; I have had my share of adventures.’
She took my good arm.
‘Come, let’s walk. We’ll find a quiet place in the garden. The gossip will be halfway round the women already that Sister Negu’s lover has returned.’
We walked and talked for over an hour. We shared a restrained embrace and exchanged fifteen years’ worth of stories. She laughed at my escapades; I smiled at her achievements.
That evening, she arranged for us to eat together in private in one of the small chapels of the monastery.
‘I will always be grateful that you brought me here. Otherwise, I would have been a rich man’s whore – until I was thrown in the midden as too old – or dead from the pox.’
‘Will you stay here?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘I’m just curious.’
‘What about you?’
‘King Richard has given me some land in the north of England, near my childhood home. He’s promised me some more when we return. I want to see my parents; as far as I know, they are still alive.’
‘No wife to take home with you, then?’
‘No, there has been no time for women in my life.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘Well, a few local girls to calm the beast from time to time.’
‘Of course! But no serious romances?’
‘Just one, a princess… but only a single tryst. She was murdered when I was supposed to be protecting her. It took me a long time to get over it.’
‘It sounds like her memory still haunts you.’
Negu was right, of course, but I changed the subject. It was my turn to question her.
‘And how have you coped with celibacy?’
Negu’s expression suddenly changed. Her animated demeanour became very serious.
‘I’d like you to do something for me.’
‘What would you like me to do?’
‘Go away and leave me in peace.’
I was mortified.
‘Don’t look so worried, it’s just for a day; I need time for reflection. Come back tomorrow evening, and I will arrange for us to eat here again.’
‘But I’ve only just arrived—’
‘I know, but you’ve suddenly walked back into my life after fifteen years. There is so much to think about. I suppose I should say that I need to pray. But whatever it is, I need time to do it.’
‘Negu, you are the one who took the decision to stay here.’
‘I know, Ranulf, but please do as I ask. We can talk again tomorrow.’
A little bewildered, I nevertheless did as she asked and found a room in the village.
After a sleepless night, I spent the next day wandering the banks of the Rhine, my mind in a turmoil, wondering what conclusions Negu was coming to.
When I arrived back at the monastery gates, I was even more anxious than I had been before. Negu also seemed tense when we met, and our dinner together began awkwardly. I feared the worst.
She had poured several cups of Rupertsberg’s famed kirsch before she began to relax. Then she took a deep breath and I sensed that our reunion was destined to be short and platonic.
‘Last night you asked me how I had coped with celibacy.’
‘I did, and I’m sorry if I upset you. I was thinking like the young lovers we once were.’
‘So was I. And I was enjoying it; I felt like a woman again. That’s why I asked you to go. I’m third in the hierarchy here, I’m not supposed to feel aroused by crusaders who come calling.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be; you haven’t taken a vow of celibacy. And I’m flattered that you think I’m still attractive.’
She smiled sweetly and rather uncertainly, then stared into her almost empty cup of kirsch before filling it to the brim and quaffing a deep draught of it.
‘So… you asked me about celibacy last night.’
‘It doesn’t matter, it was wrong of me to ask.’
‘It does matter. The truth is, I don’t deal with it at all well. There was a young monk a few years ago. He was sweet and very handsome, but I had to stop it; it became too dangerous. Then there was Philip of Heinsberg, Archbishop of Cologne, one of Barbarossa’s favourite warriors, a Prince Bishop who owned half of Germany. He died last year, but four years ago he started inviting me to his Palace for “meditation”. I was flattered and eventually gave in. He treated me well, but I soon realized I was just his harlot – one of many. Since then, there
