It had become dark when they finally spotted Lady Isabel, riding in front of Chetwynd on his large war horse, coming through the gate of the convent. Chetwynd was reluctant to release his hold on his wife, but Marianna reached out with such eager tenderness that he passed Isabel into her care. Although greatly relieved by the sight of her mistress, on closer inspection Marianna was shocked to find her bruised and disheveled.
In a large bedchamber reserved for special visitors, the two women worked together to bathe and feed Lady Isabel. Once the dirt was gone from her face and hands, her bruises showed up even more vividly.
“These will fade in a few days,” Gilda pointed out to reassure Marianna as much as Isabel. “But they may blossom into some vivid colors before that happens.”
Although dazed and sleepy upon her arrival at the convent, Isabel was revived by the thick soup Marianna brought for her, as well as her curiosity about Gilda. Chetwynd had introduced them when they arrived, but then she was rushed away to a bedchamber.
“I didn’t know Chetwynd had a sister,” she said. She guessed that Gilda was about her own age and was eager to learn more about her.
“And I didn’t know he had a wife,” Gilda said with a sparkle in her eye. “You should rest now, my lady, and we’ll talk later.”
“Please, don’t go. I need to talk.”
Gilda nodded. “Sometimes it helps to talk. Tell us what happened,” she urged, assuming Isabel wanted to tell them about her capture.
The two women listened intently while Isabel gave them a quick outline of her capture and escape. But Isabel soon made it clear that she didn’t want to talk about herself.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen Chetwynd, Gilda? Are there other brothers and sisters?”
Although Jerome had given her a few details about Chetwynd as a leader of men, Isabel was hungry for more information about her husband. By turns he infuriated her by the distance he kept between them, and stirred her desire for him by some tender act.
“I can’t believe you’re not collapsing with fatigue, Isabel. Are you sure you don’t want to lie quietly for a while? We can talk tomorrow.”
“I’m too wakeful to settle down. It might help to talk a little,” Isabel pleaded. What she didn’t say was that she hoped Chetwynd would come to her, and she didn’t want to be asleep.
The two caretakers exchanged looks. Marianna shrugged her shoulders to indicate they should indulge Isabel. Gilda began speaking in a soft voice, hoping to lull Isabel into sleep.
“Chetwynd and I didn’t spend much time together growing up. But we have become close in recent years. Aachen is not far from here, and Chetwynd often stops at Saint Ives to visit. We have two brothers older than Chetwynd. They remain in Aquitania with my father to help with the estate they will inherit one day. Neither Chetwynd nor I have returned home for many years.”
Marianna adjusted the blanket around Isabel’s shoulders and urged her to drink some water, while Gilda described the home she had left at an early age.
Isabel watched Gilda as she spoke, looking for a resemblance to Chetwynd. As far as she could tell, they shared the same coloring. Although Gilda’s hair was covered by a dark veil, her skin was fair and her eyes a deep shade of blue. But she noticed that while Gilda had a serene countenance, Chetwynd’s expression was usually tense and alert.
Closing her eyes, Isabel wondered if it was her vocation that gave Gilda her air of serenity. If she had listened to her father’s advice, she might also be living in a religious community. Gilda stopped speaking, hoping that Isabel had gone to sleep.
Opening her eyes, Isabel said, “At one time my father urged me to become a nun.”
“I’m not surprised. Marriage and the veil seem to be the only two options that fathers think about for their daughters.”
“I might have considered it, but I was by nature opposed to any idea my father had for my future,” Isabel admitted. “How did you come to join the sisters of Saint Ives, Gilda?”
“When I was ten years old, I came here to be educated. Chetwynd had been sent to a noble household for his education, but my father thought I would be safer in a convent, taught by nuns, until I was ready to marry. He was rather distressed to find I liked it here and wished to stay. When I was twelve, my father proposed a match with a wealthy landowner, but I was not the least bit interested.”
Coming to a sitting position, Isabel interrupted her. “The same thing happened to me. I was supposed to marry when I was twelve.”
“My lady sabotaged the match,” Marianna interjected with a beam of approval. “The man was old. Nowhere near as comely as Lord Chetwynd.”
Gilda nodded her understanding. “The man my father chose for my future husband had lost his wife and needed help raising his young children. I begged to stay at Saint Ives for a few more years. Then at fourteen my father again tried to persuade me to marry. By that time I knew I never wanted to leave the convent. There was a terrible row, but my father finally accepted my decision.”
“Did you experience a spiritual calling?” Isabel asked, thinking about her own lack of such feeling.
“I don’t recall any divine revelation, if that’s what you mean. I was more attracted by the way of life at the convent. We’re not as isolated from the world as you might think. Since we’re near Aachen, the location of the king’s favorite palace, we have visitors almost every night.
“Many of the children who come to us to be educated have families in various parts of the empire. From them
