57th Thread: A lady in her castle

Your father refused to join when the first believers left. He said he was neither a knight, nor a monk, nor a beggar, which is true, but would he really have been turned away? Meanwhile, these ladies have but little recourse in these uncertain times, and that is despite the zeal of their men, bless their souls, gloriously gone to the holy land. Some take up arms to defend their domains, only they are not learned in the art of violence. Your father helps them. He provides sentries, raises embankments and buttresses walls. He takes back territories that ought perhaps to have been apportioned to the ladies’ ancestors, as I understand it. In return, he’s awarded a portion of the land recaptured. It’s complicated. When he explains, some of his reasoning does not seem to fit in with others, but what do I know about profit? Your great grandmother had all sorts of knowledge of commerce, but my parents thought it shameful to learn anything except ladylike talents that have so little use, and your father wants you to have a similar education, I wish I could ask him different.
Well, I never thought I would live here. Your father took this castle as payment, she lacked funds to defend the rest of her estate, and already owed him. At least it’s located far from where we come from. There, we would have been the butt of pranks and insults, for people should not change ranks, it is against the teachings of the church, I think. Your father gets angry when I say I fear for my soul. In my family, we have always been very religious. If only I could convince your father to bring me to the holy land and to fight for God rather than for his ladies. When it comes to family, I’m just the runt of the litter, with little understanding of the world, or standing. My mother wasn’t afraid of anything except to be tempted by the devil. She loved no one as much as god. Not me, not even my brother. If only I were as strong as my mother, who took to the road for the salvation of her soul without worrying about anyone. Unless we can boast a pilgrimage or an exceptional relic, we sinners are not granted paradise. I wish you would take care of your soul! Unfortunately, I am constantly guilty of a long list of faults. I often feel angry at people, relatives, the priest, your father even. Worst of all, sometimes, I secretly desire the contact of his flesh. Our priest admonishes me in vain, I can’t help myself. As my last chance for salvation, I gave secretly my jewelry to your cousin before his departure. This young man, austere and pious, had always been the pride of his parents, even though he has not been fitted with an attractive face, his nose so sharp, his chin so wanting. Now I sin again. Looks are unimportant. It doesn’t matter that you are so plain. I was overjoyed when he accepted my devotional fund! I begged him to pray for me when he walked on sacred ground, and to bring me back a relic. But he stayed over there. Thanks to his righteousness, he has become rich, and owns a beautiful property in a fertile valley. So reports the missive that was delivered to your father. Your cousin asks for your hand which your father granted, as your future husband will set up a trading post on his behalf. Do not cry, this union will bring you honor and wealth. You shall save your soul, you can devote yourself in all piety to your children, to your house, to your husband, perhaps. I shall be lonely in my castle, I will probably wither from your absence, and turn into an ever more pointless sinner. We do not choose. There, there, my child, cry all your want.