Great Britain -- History -- Stephen, 1135-1154 -- Fiction
Many were the tears shed by me, and many the masses and prayers said by
our house for the said Ladie Alfgiva and the two missing children. Grief
and anxiety for her son and foster daughter did at times almost bow that
noble dame to the earth, and her grief was the greater because of her
frequent loneliness and the hazards her lord was running in the many
sieges and battles of the times; but although her health declined and
her cheek became wan, hope and trust in heaven's goodness did not
forsake her. A pious dame was Ladie Alfgiva, and of a nature high and
noble in all things. Though thinking day and night of her only son and
her only living child, she never once implored Sir Alain to purchase the
boy's release and his restoration to her arms by proving false to his
oath and untrue to the king, and every time that her lord came to his
home she dried her tears and did all that she could to conceal her great
grief so long as he tarried with her. The virtuous woman is a crown unto
her husband, and verily there be wives as well as virgins that merit the
crown the church awards to saints and martyrs. Saint Catherine on the
wheel, or Saint Agatha at the fiery stake, suffered not pangs so acute
as those of this bereaved mother; and their torture was soon over, and
while they suffered they saw from the wheel and stake the heavens
opening to the eye, and they heard heavenly music in the air which made
them deaf to the shouts of the infidel rabble that were slaying them. So
much bliss and so great a foretaste of celestial joy was not vouchsafed
unto the secular Ladie Alfgiva, and could not be expected by her:
nevertheless had she her happy visions and sweet soothing sounds during
her long bereavement. More than once, in her great loneliness, when her
lord was away fighting for King Stephen, as she stood on the battlements
of her castle at eventide, she saw her boy and his playmate Alice
sitting on the flowery bank which slopes down to the river, as they used
often to sit before Sir Ingelric did steal them away; and she heard
their merry little voices on the breeze, and their frolicsome laugh.
Some would say that she but took two stray lambs for the lost children,
and that the sounds she heard were only made by the evening breeze among
the tall growing grass and the leafy coppices; but I, Felix, could never
so interpret it unto her. But constantly did I strive to give her
comfort, and to conceal from her the cruelties that were daily committed
in the land, and to stop the thoughtless indiscreet tongue of her people
who would have filled her ears with horrible tales of murdered children
and babes, for not the massacre of the Innocents in Judea was so fierce
as the slaughter that raged in England.
VII.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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