In truth, he was dreading it.
He didn’t want to let her return to that horrific place, but he had little choice. Deep down, he understood why William wanted her back at St. Blitha and it made sense to him. The trick would be asking Andressa to do the unthinkable when she returned.
To spy.
The door to the retainer’s chamber loomed before him. Gathering his courage, he would do what needed to be done.
*
The garment wasthe color of wine.
Andressa couldn’t take her eyes off it as an older serving woman brought it in and laid it upon the chair next to the hearth. The woman smiled kindly at Andressa and told her that Sir Maxton had ordered clean clothes and a bath for her, something that greatly confused Andressa. Why should she need clean clothing and a bath? She had to return to St. Blitha, and she certainly couldn’t do it in clothing that did not belong to her.
But then, she started to think about it…a bath. Something clean to wear. God only knew how long it had been since she’d had either. While at Okehampton, Lady de Courtney had insisted on cleanliness, so her charges bathed regularly and their clothing was always clean.
In fact, Andressa had never even experienced vermin during that time– no vermin on the body or in the hair, no vermin in the beds or linens, but at St. Blitha, vermin were the norm. It was in the clothing, in the bedding, but Andressa had spent a greatdeal of time boiling her own bedding and clothing, trying to stay away from the other nuns who suspiciously itched. Vermin traveled, but she kept things that touched her body as clean as she could and, although she’d seen other nuns and pledges with the red rash that foretold of vermin, Andressa had been careful enough to avoid it for the most part.
But it had been a struggle.
Therefore, when the old serving woman came into the chamber with clean clothing and talk of a bath, Andressa didn’t hesitate for long. She almost wanted the bath more than the food. She wasn’t dedicated to the cloister enough to refuse the clean comfort of the material world, so she stood in the corner as several servants entered the chamber with a big copper basin. She didn’t utter a word of protest when they filled it, sending steam into the chamber. She was ready, willing, and able to wash herself when the servants left.
“I’ll take your clothing and have it washed, m’lady.” The old serving woman was the only one left, holding out her arms to Andressa. “Let me take your garments and while they are being cleaned, you can wear the clothing I brought you.”
The lure of worldly comforts was almost too much for Andressa to take. Her gaze was on the steaming water. “There is no time to clean my clothing properly,” she said. “It will take time to dry out and I do not have such time.”
The servant didn’t give up. “Then let me take it and clean what I can,” she said. “Clean the spots off of it, as it were.”
Andressa looked down at herself. She wore what was essentially a long tunic, all the way to the ground, tied about her waist with a loose leather belt. Beneath that, she wore a shift, but it was made from rough material and that, too, had been given to her. Cast downs from other nuns who had moved on to finer habits. On her feet were leather shoes, with a hole in the soleof the right one, and that was all she wore. No hose, nothing to protect her skin.
Gone were the days of the fine garments she used to wear, the lovely dresses made from silks. Her hair, which had been a source of pride for her, had always been elaborately dressed. She looked like an heiress, which she was, but all of that finery had ended the day she entered St. Blitha. The lovely dress she wore had been taken from her and in its place she’d been given the monstrosity she currently wore. She had a second shift, for sleeping or the rare bathing, but she was basically wearing everything she owned, and she knew it was a sight.
Not a good sight, either.
Her resistance to the call of comfort wasn’t very strong. She hadn’t much willpower where that was concerned. Therefore, with a sharp nod, she began to untie her belt, removing it and pulling the heavy woolen garment over her head to hand to the servant. As the woman moved to the door, presumably to go clean the wool, Andressa removed her shoes and made her way over to the basin to peer at the clean, warm water.
Heavenly!
But she jumped away from the basin, startled, when the old servant opened the door and was met by another servant outside. The old woman handed off the woolen garment to the servant and took something from her in return, something she carried with her as she closed the door, bolted it, and headed over to the table near the hearth, where she sat everything down. She then picked up a three-legged stool from a corner and headed for the big, steaming basin on the ground.
“Remove your shift, m’lady,” she said as she placed the stool inside the basin. “Get in, sit down, and I shall wash you down.”
It was almost too good to be true, but Andressa refused to remove the thin linen shift. She simply wasn’t comfortable doing so. The serving woman encouraged her to get into the basin,anyway, easing her down onto the stool. The water was several inches deep, deep enough so that when she sat down, her bottom was right at the water level. Once she settled down, the old servant went to work.
Such a simple comfort as a washing had never felt so good. It wasn’t a full bath, as Andressa wasn’t immersed, but the serving woman used a large pitcher to pour water over her, drenching her, before scrubbing what skin she could get to, from her head to her toes, with a bristly brush and a cake of hard soap that had seeds in it, and smelled of honey and pine.
It was a glorious smell, and Andressa reveled in the pleasure of being scrubbed down. Her ankles, filthy above the edges of her shoe, were scrubbed clean, as where her elbows, knees, hands, and any other piece of flesh the serving woman could get to.
More water rinsed over her and the serving woman took her hair out of its thick braid, the one that went all the way to her knees, and began pouring water through it. Andressa wasn’t exactly sure how she was going to explain wet hair when she returned to St. Blitha but, at the moment, she didn’t much care. It was a heavenly bath and she was savoring the moment.
She’d worry about the consequences later.
“I have soap meant for your hair, m’lady,” the serving woman said. “It’s meant to kill any vermin and make your hair very fresh.”
With the warm water and the scrubbing, Andressa was quite relaxed at that point. She was game for anything the woman wanted to do to her. “How is it that you have so many things for a bath?” she asked. “Is there a lady of the house?”
The old woman began to pour something over Andressa’s hair, something that smelled strongly of vinegar. “Lord William has five daughters,” the servant told her. “When they visit London, this is where they stay.”
Andressa looked to the dress hanging over the chair. “Then the gown belongs to his daughters?”
