Helena: From Unholiness, To Sacredness by Adam Rutter

I am Helena, Lady of Ludlow Castle, daughter of Edwin (Bishop of Hereford), and Elizabeth, the late Baroness of the Welsh Marches. I now hold the title of Baroness. My husband, Roger, is Lord of the castle. It is our castle, our land that lies in the Heart of England. The castle, a stone fortress that stands aloft the small town of Ludlow, in South Shropshire, is the administration of the Welsh Marches. This land. This estate – it’s Roger’s dominion. His kingdom. Or so he thinks. His dominion stands for power, dominance, riches, taxing the poor. This is what I had married him for. We did not wed for love.

Our marriage was arranged by our parents. I never wanted to marry him. We had a son. His name was Alfred. We lost him. He was ambushed, plundered and slained by a beggar. It is Roger’s power and dominance is why Alfred is dead. Roger has made enemies of the people on this land. My definition of a dominion is freedom, prosperity, justice. There have been many a time when I have walked beyond these castle walls unnoticed, disguised as a peasant, while carrying Roger’s takings with me to give back to the people of this land. I have walked across this land far and wide. I have carried his riches as far as Powys. It is there where I have held secret meetings with a nobleman by the name of Gwynfor Jones. I have told him of my cause to rid tyranny and oppression from this land. He pledged to never tell a soul that it was I who returned all the coins to the people which Lord Roger had so wrongly taken from them. The truth? Nobody knows that it was I who gave the silver coins back to the rightful owner. I needed to go back to Powys. I had to. Gwynfor was going to help me bring down Lord Roger’s kingdom. But I could not leave the castle undetected. I was not able to venture out anywhere without informing my husband. So I thought of a daring plan. A Knight stood at the end of a passage, guarding the exit that lead into the inner ward of the castle. I tiptoed up to him, preparing to attack. My hands – clasped together. I raised my arms above my head, and struck him. Before he had time to pull his sword out, I hit his head against the wall, knocking him unconscious. I removed his chainmail and sword. When I went out onto the inner ward, I stole the Knight’s horse, and galloped to our secret rendezvous where Gwynfor mustered an army to revolt against Lord Rover’s dominion. His army were just ordinary people trying to live normal lives, only to be plighted by hunger and destitution. Their weapons were basic, although they spoke a thousand words in a fight for freedom. We marched on to Ludlow Castle. While Lord Roger was holding a feast with his so-called important guests, we sieged the castle. There was so much fighting, the battle went on for hours. The casualties were many. Gwynfor was among them. I was by his side when he drew his last breath. Three knights on horseback charged after me. I jumped back on my horse, and went into the woods. They were shooting arrows at me. One arrow hit a tree. Another flew past my head. While I was weaving between the trees, I was still dodging the arrows. As the knights were catching up, the horses hooves thumping against the ground grew heavier, while my heart thumping against my chest was getting louder. The knights kept apace with me. I ducked. The arrows narrowly missed me. My pursuers used up all their arrows, and then retreated. My horse slowed from a gallop, to a canter. I stayed in the woods in the hope that nobody will find me. I could not turn back. Not after what happened. Supposing Lord Roger found out it was me trying to bring down his kingdom? I shall hang. The only thing I could do was to keep cantering in the woods, and hope, and pray that I might turn up in someplace where no one would find me. I was seeking a sanctuary far from danger. I slowed to an amble. The hooves on my horse were thudding against the ground. The sun shining on the trees had faded. The wind rustled the leaves. A heavy cloud darkened the skies. Rumbles of thunder grew louder as it drew nearer. A deluge of rainfall was tapping on my helmet and lashing against the leaves. Lightning flickered on the trees. My armour was drenched. The chainmail was hanging under my arms. I could not stop. I had to keep ambling in the rain, to escape mortal danger. Lord Roger’s men were bound to search for me as soon as he realized my absence. I wandered in the woods incessantly until a town or hamlet had been reached. I found no such place. The woods stretched as far as the eye could see. The torrential downpour reduced to smaller droplets. The thunder was receding. The rain stopped. Through the trees, I saw a meadow. It sloped downhill. When my horse ambled across the meadow, I saw a shaft of sunlight falling through a hole in the cloud, and land on a nunnery. The main gates leading into the nunnery grew larger as I moved closer. The gates – two semi-arched oak doors hinged onto an archway was the opening in a long stone wall enclosing the courtyard. In the tower, the bells were chiming. I dismounted from my horse. I walked up to the gates, pulled a rope, and the bell clanged. I heard a choir coming from the church. It was pleasing to the ear. The voices were serene and harmonious. The door creaked open. The prioress stood before me dressed in a black cassock and white scapula. Clothed in my suit of armour, she thought I was truly a knight. I lift the helmet off my head. I shook my head to allow my hair fall down my back, to show the prioress that I really am a maiden – not a knight. She demanded to know why I was wearing armoury. I gave her my reasons, and then she ordered me to surrender my sword. I drew out the sword to lay down in front of me. The blade – stained with blood. Many souls in the battle were slained by my sword. It was clear for the prioress to see with her own eyes. She wanted to know what was a maiden, like me, dressed in an armoured suit, doing outside a nunnery. I fell to my knees, expressing my dread and sorrow. The despair, anguish, terror on my face was plain for the prioress to see. It was reason enough to allow me admittance into communal life. The prioress introduced herself to me as Sister Alida, of Wenlock Priory. Sister Alida ushered me into the priory. Once I had stepped through that door, I felt peaceful and tranquil, knowing that my life was no longer in peril; even though it may still be far from safe.