The Forest by Edward Rutherfurd Page A

have to make a sacrifice of myself?’ She looked accusingly at the older woman. ‘Did
you
make a sacrifice when you married?’
    For a moment her companion paused. ‘Well, I’ll tell you this,’ she said quietly. ‘If I did, my dear late husband never knew it.’
    Adela digested this in silence, then nodded ruefully. ‘Am I clever enough to be married?’
    ‘No,’ the older woman replied. ‘But very few girls are.’
    The proposal came the next day. Adela rejected it. Walter Tyrrell arrived a week later, and went straight to see the widow.
    ‘She has refused Sir Fulk?’
    ‘He may not be the right one,’ the widow suggested kindly.
    ‘Without my permission? What’s wrong with him? He has two good estates.’
    ‘Perhaps it was something else.’
    ‘He’s a very handsome man.’
    ‘No doubt.’
    ‘I take this rejection personally. It’s an outrage.’
    ‘She’s young, Walter. I like her.’
    ‘You speak to her, then. I won’t. But tell her this,’ continued the infuriated knight. ‘If she refuses one more good man I’ll take her to Romsey Abbey and she can live the rest of her life as a nun. You tell her that.’ And with only a perfunctory kiss of his old friend’s hand he left.
    ‘So you see,’ the widow told Adela an hour later, ‘he’s threatening you with Romsey Abbey.’
    Adela had to admit that she was shaken. ‘What sort of place is it? Do you know anyone there?’ she asked in alarm.
    ‘It’s rather grand. Mostly noblewomen. And yes, I do know a nun there. She’s a Saxon princess called Edith – one of the last of our old royal house. I knew her mother very well. Edith’s about your age.’
    ‘Does she like it?’
    ‘When the abbess isn’t looking, she takes off her habit and jumps on it.’
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘I shouldn’t go there unless you want to be a nun.’
    ‘I don’t.’
    ‘I think you’d better make sure you do marry, but we can take a little time. Just be careful not to encourage any more Sir Fulks.’ Then, taking pity on her, the widow added: ‘I think, actually, that Walter isn’t very likely to carry out that particular threat.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because, Romsey Abbey being what it is, to get you in there he’d probably have to pay.’
    However, the autumn season had brought few visitors to Winchester after that. November came, the leaves had all fallen, the sky was grey and the wind that blew over the bare downs was often bitter cold. There were no suitors now. She thought of the Forest sometimes and could almost wish herself back in Christchurch, riding out with Edgar. She thought, many times, of Hugh de Martell. But she nevermentioned this, even to her kindly hostess. December arrived. Soon, they said, there would be snow.
    She could hardly have been more surprised, coming out of the cathedral one cold December day, to see her cousin Walter, wearing a jaunty hunting cap with a feather in it, standing beside a handsome covered wagon from which, taking his outstretched hand, a lady wrapped in a cloak with a fur trim was carefully alighting.
    It was the Lady Maud.
    She hurried forward and called out to them. They both turned.
    Walter looked slightly annoyed. She supposed he thought she was interrupting the Lady Maud. He had sent no word that he would be in Winchester, but that was not so surprising. He surely could not have been meaning to pass through the place without coming to see her? The nod he gave her seemed to indicate that she might join them and so she went in with them as they entered the royal residence where the porter and servants evidently knew her cousin.
    Lady Maud, she thought, might have been more friendly or showed more recognition, but Adela supposed she must be tired from her journey. While the Lady Maud left them for a short while, Walter explained that they were only breaking the journey. Lady Maud was to visit a cousin of hers who lived beyond Winchester and Hugh de Martell, with whom Walter had just been staying, had asked him to