Gift of God: Lady Godiva - Chapter 5

The nanny whispered softly at her side.

“It’s where people live. Had I not been born to my parents, I might have been just like them.”

The nanny could not understand. The very idea that a noble-born lady would think such thoughts was a mystery to her.

To ache over lack when one had never lacked—how could that make sense? She herself had never gone hungry, having served good masters all her life. She did not truly know the suffering of serfs. And for a lady far more exalted than she to concern herself with such people—it was something to shake one’s head over.

“If his lordship finds out, he will be furious.”

To Godiva, the nanny always seemed to stand on Leofric’s side. No matter what the matter was, she would first speak of what his lordship might think. Without replying, Godiva stepped forward.

At that moment, a small shadow gathered faintly at her feet.

“Kind lady, please… just a coin.”

It was a ragged child, perhaps six or seven years old. The little girl clutched at Godiva’s skirt and looked up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

“Hey! Away with you! How dare you touch her with such filthy hands!”

The nanny shrieked and yanked the child away before Godiva could intervene.

Thud.

The frail body tumbled onto the grimy market ground. Too weak from hunger, the girl could not even rise at once.

“Oh—my child…”

Godiva bent down toward her.

“Miss!”

Ignoring the nanny’s protests, Godiva knelt in the dirt and helped the child to her feet.

“I am sorry. Allow me to apologize in her stead.”

“No, Miss…”

The girl’s dirty cheeks flushed pink. She had never heard such a gentle voice, seen such a lovely face, smelled such a sweet fragrance. She stared up at Godiva in dazed wonder.

“Where are your parents, child?”

“My father… he’s at home.”

It was plain from her worn clothing that she had no mother. Godiva gently patted the small, grimy hand.

“But he’s ill. He can’t work.”

Her eyes, at least, were bright. Cleaned and cared for, she would surely be adorable. Godiva drew a coin from the long sleeve of her gown and pressed it into the child’s palm.

“Here…”

“Thank you, my lady!”

The girl’s eyes widened like lanterns.

“Buy something to eat and share it with your father.”

“Yes, beautiful lady!”

The child bowed quickly and ran off.

“Miss, giving a coin or two won’t solve anything.”

The nanny muttered in disapproval.

“You’re right, Nanny. It’s only a temporary remedy…”

Godiva rose to her feet.

“That girl’s father is a serf too. Even starving, he must still pay taxes.”

Though spoken under her breath, the words carried weight. Unease crept over the nanny, and she grasped her mistress’s sleeve.

“Miss…”

“This cannot go on. Nanny, let us return.”

By then, a small circle had formed around Godiva. The nanny’s eyes widened in alarm, but Lady Godiva met them calmly. Her beautiful gaze shone brighter than any jewel; as sunlight struck it, people squinted.

“My lady…”

The head of the market guild bowed with proper respect. The others followed suit—serfs and merchants alike. All held Godiva in genuine esteem. Kind and compassionate, she was very different from the distant and formidable lord of Coventry.

“You’ve come again. Even though his lordship does not wish it.”

Godiva’s throat tightened too much to answer, so she answered only with her eyes—warm and full of feeling.

“My lady, thanks to your care, my wife delivered safely.”

A large man stepped forward and knelt.

“You look after us so. How can we ever repay you?”

Hearing their gratitude, Godiva felt ashamed. She did not believe she deserves such praise.

“Miss, please, let us go.”

The nanny was deeply anxious, afraid her mistress might make some promise to them. She tugged at Godiva’s arm.

“We shall see you again,” said John the blacksmith, bowing deeply.

“Yes… all of you…”

Tears welled up in Godiva’s chest, and that was all she could manage to say.