Chapter 19 If Only I Could Forget

  If only I could forget.

  I think I am one ale shy of drinking like Alexander.

  <Thump>

  "Don't put a dent in the wood Henry!  What would mother say if she were here?"

  "You're one to talk Alexander."

  "You don't see me damaging the wood with tankards do you?"

  "No.  You prefer damaging fine ladies."

  "Now, now Henry.  It isn't damaging if the lady wants it."

  Alexander was careful to say this with great bravado.  He didn't want his younger brother to know he had done no reputation damaging - lady or peasant.  A split second later he was certain he had laid it on too thick.

  Alexander considered his younger brother to be his closest friend.  So when Henry took a swing at him, he fought with him in good fun.

  "A good fight Henry!  Care to go again?"

  "Do you really think I took a swing at you for the sport of it?"

  Was his bravado really that bad?

  "Oh come on Henry!  What do you have to be so mad at me about?"

  "I only want to defend my mother's honor."

  Alexander was confused.  If this was a joke, he didn't get it.  Henry sounded...forlorn.

  "Henry?"

  Henry just walked away.  He didn't answer, didn't turn around, he just walked away.  Alexander didn't get it.  He was about to go after him when he heard a voice.

  "Lord Alexander, a word with you my son."

  That nun was here again.  The same one that put his mother on a carriage.  What is she doing here?

  The nun beckoned.  Great.  She probably saw the whole fight.  Or worse, maybe she wants me to do missionary work like mother.

  Alexander was not against charity work.  He thought it quite honorable.  He simply would rather do other things.

  Trying to be humble, a difficult task for a nobleman's heir, he approached.

  "Yes Mother?"

  "Pardon me My Lord.  I could not help overhearing."

  "Forgive me Mother for fighting with my brother."

  "I could tell you were only practicing with him."

  "I would not have done so if gentle eyes were upon us."

  "My Lord, do you know what your brother was referring to?  About your mother?"

  Alexander hated admitting he did not know something, especially in front of a woman, even if she is of the faith.  He felt a sudden shame in this.  Perhaps the Lord sent this nun to remind him to be a humble man.

  "No Mother, I do not.  Perhaps I should seek the answer from him."

  "Perhaps My Lord, you should seek the answer from within."

  "Wouldn't it be easier to ask my brother what he meant?  I could spend a great deal of time thinking about it and could still be wrong."

  "Perhaps not in this instance.  Think My Lord.  What could he mean?"

  Alexander thought hard.  The only possibility he could come up with was rather unflattering indeed.

  "I would rather not say."

  "My Lord, I would send a monk to speak with you, but I thought it best to keep your family's recent history as private as possible."

  What has Henry been saying?  And just how has he been saying it?  And to this nun?  I thought we were better friends than that.

  "Perhaps he is meaning that I am a disgrace to my mother.  I do not know why.  I love her dearly."

  "A little too dearly?"

  "How can one love their mother too dearly?"

  They stared each other down.  At first the nun's face seemed to be asking a question.  Then she seemed puzzled.  Then something like sorrow.

  "My Lord," she said gently, "you recently drank quite a bit of ale one evening?"

  Alexander reddened.

  "Yes.  It was only one night recently.  I did not disgrace my mother.  I drank at home.  Then I slept very sound indeed."

  "And what did you do between your first drink and when you slept?"

  "Drink more.  It was a fairly uneventful night.  I drank a lot, that is all."

  "You really don't know, do you?"

  "Perhaps you can tell me what you are referring to and then I can tell you if I know or not."

  Alexander found it irritating when the clergy spoke in puzzles.

  "You must have drunk too much to remember...  Perhaps your father should tell you.  Oh...but he is upset with you."

  Alexander began to feel ashamed.

  "I think I know what you are getting at."

  The nun looked relieved.

  "I...I wasn't just drinking ale.  I was drinking some of father's mulled wine too...quite a bit of it.  He is rather furious with me for it."

  The nun looked stunned.  How odd.

  "Is that what he said?"

  "No.  He has made it quite obvious though.  He has been avoiding me ever since.  That is why I haven't had much lately.  I am trying to make it up to him in my own way."

  Please don't make me do missionary work, he begged her silently.

  "My Lord...after you became quite full of spirits, you were found kissing your mother in the kitchen."

  "She is a good woman.  She deserves her sons' chaste kisses."

  "This was no chaste kiss My Lord."

  "What?"

  "My Lord, living with the truth is penance enough-"

  Alexander was reeling.

  "-why she has been sent away."

  "Wait.  She was sent on missionary work for penance?"

  "No.  That is a cover story for privacy.  She was sent to the Fool's Tower."

  "Fool's Tower?"

  "Didn't you notice she wasn't acting herself?"

  "I was...hung over.  And then I threw myself into my studies, that father might forgive me for drinking so much of his wine."

  Now the nun was silent.

  "Please Mother, tell me it isn't so.  Who witnessed this kiss?"

  "Your father."

  Lord Richard the Lionhearted would not lie.

  "My first kiss was with my-my-my mother?"

  "I'm afraid so My Lord."

  Alexander dropped to his knees, as much in piety as an inability to stand.

  "Forgive me Mother, for I have sinned."

  "It is not my forgiveness you need, but God's."

  She led him in a prayer.  He stumbled over the words so stunned was he.

  "Go now, find peace.  Do not let this haunt you all your days."

  "I deserve to be tortured by this Mother."

  "Jesus died on the cross that this burden be lifted from you.  Not that you deserve it, that God loves you this much."

  "Yes Mother," he said meekly.

  The nun left the house in silence.

  Alexander climbed the ladder and stepped into his parents' room.  It is the most private room in the cottage.

  A snatch of a dream floated back to Alexander.  Dancing with an imagined lady love.  Kissing her full on the lips...  Now he knew.  This had not been a dream.  It had been real.  It had been his mother.  Alexander felt sick.

  What have I done?

  If only I could forget.