Between the Neck and the Knees

Between the Neck and the Knees. 

Douce I de Gévaudan, comtesse de Provence born 1101

By Susan Grant-Suttie

‘So what’s the catch?” thought Douce I de Gévaudan, comtesse de Provence, as it always came down to something between the neck and the knees. 

Her young servant woman, Bruna, giggled then scratched her hair through her headscarf, most likely it was the persistent head lice that was bothering her. After sucking a piece of meat out from between her teeth the Bruna then leaned in for some exaggerated privacy to begin the conversation.  

Douce I de Gévaudan, comtesse de Provence, a young teenager herself, tolerated the odor that wafted around her maid like flatulence. Douce made sure not to lean closely, the young woman’s breath alone would offend a dog.  

Bruna batted her pretty little brown eyes several times in coyness, being allowed to be so close to the comtesse de Provence and wanting to display some innocence for pressing the social boundaries then carried on with her story not realizing how hard it was for the young comtesse to remain so close. The two teenage girls with heads bent towards each other, shared the local gossip like two cats sharing a bowl of cream. Bruna handed her mistress a small bag of mint-like plants for that night’s tea (or so she assumed), Bruna’s original chore before being side tracked in conversation.  

“Isn’t it astounding how men think they control us!” Douce threw in this comment to encourage this young wench to share more titillating tidbits of market gossip. The servant girl made some mumbling comments then began her story about a sailor who wanted more from the serving wench then he should have asked and so there was a wall between them, as organized by the father, the publican. 

“The sailor asked her to kiss him but he was told to push his lips into the hole. No one said if the daughter kissed him or not but I wouldn’t put it past the publican to kiss the fellow instead, probably a peck.” The servant girl began to wave her hands around, again, as if she was trying to calm herself down in laughter. “Then, the sailor had the audacity to ask to touch her cunt, in fact he said he wanted to pet it!”

“How did the publican handle that?” 

“He put his cheek into the hole and let the sailor touch his bearded cheek! The fellow petted it and thought it was real. After hearing this much I thought for sure the sailor was a virgin or at least an idiot, but he asked for another request.”

“So do you think the publican’s daughter and the sailor will marry?” Douce made a face of disgust.

By now the two young women, caught by the contagion of laughter, were wiping tears from their cheeks as they reveled in the images of the publican fooling the dupable sailor.  

They both heard the downstairs entrance fill up with guests and Douce shooed away Bruna. Douce bent her head towards the door to listen to see if she could infer who was downstairs before being seen, but she had suspected it would be the doctor and the priest, as requested by her in-laws to review a marital issue.

True enough, there was a doctor and priest who were summoned at the same time to discuss with Douce the reasons for her childlessness. It was her husband, Conrad, Duke of Rothenburg, the fifth son of Frederick 1st of Barbarossa and in line of the Germanic throne, who was expected in this marriage to produce children immediately, hence the visit. The two had been married for two years now and not one pregnancy. Both Douce’s parents and his parents were concerned and both houses agreed to send a doctor and a priest to investigate the source of the malady, as neither house wanted to annul the marriage due to the wife being accused of being barren, but the issue had to be addressed. She had no fear of her husband being present for he preferred the hunt than the home on any good day. She felt it treacherous that no one planned to examine her husband as to his lack thereof, but only herself.  

The manor’s man-servant stumbled up the stairs, knocked on Douce’s door and whispered as to their presence downstairs. Douce wriggled her cap into place and descended the stairs with some grace and made sure they could see her hold her chin high to give the air of confidence as she emerged into their company below. She stopped at the last step, standing a full six inches taller than the men at the bottom of the stairs, and nodded at them gracefully. They knew nothing, she thought, but she’d have to play the game. She wished she had the publican as her advisor at this point, he could have thought of a way for her to get out of this sticky mess.

“My lady, it is delightful to see you, and we plan to make this as short and pleasant as possible.” The doctor was at least compassionate enough to touch the issue at hand whereas the elderly priest kept looking at the floor and mumbling what sounded like latin, but one could not be sure with his age - even his eyes were weighed over by pockets of wrinkles. Such dotards tended to hide in thoughts of religious mists to camouflage their ineptness. The doctor was at least young enough to counterbalance the awkwardness of the situation, bold though he was, he was also one who appeared to want to press through the matter. She watched him wave his one hand to his companion as if to motion, ‘let’s get on with this.’

“Your husband is a knight.” The priest made statements that sounded almost like a question before anyone sat down. He began the interview in the middle of the hall.   

“Gentlemen, may we sit and have a warm beer and some bread as we discuss the situation.” Douce waved her hand and the humped over manservant reappeared with a tray of simple refreshments walking towards the large table in the middle of the room with facing chairs. The men sat down after Douce sat in hers. Douce, noticing the urgent attitude of the doctor, decided to skip a few questions ahead hoping the visit would be shortened.

“You realize how important this meeting is?” Again the priest spoke with his question statements as if it were all just a rehearsal for something larger yet to be discovered.

“Yes, and I would prefer to get to the point. For as disagreeable as I am about the unfortunate situation I am in, I will prove that it is not of my doing.” She sat with a straight back as if someone poked her.   

“Madam, are you aware of your duty as a wife? Of your duty to present yourself to your husband? Of your duty to go forth and be fruitful as the bible states?” At least this time the statements sounded more like questions. Still the older man kept his watery eyes down and his hands shook as his thin white beard bobbed up and down like a puppet’s face when he spoke. 

“If you are asking me if I make myself available to my husband when we are alone at night, I can say that I have.” Douce had no fear looking into the face of the old religious priest. It was he who would not lift his gaze, she felt quite in control.  

The doctor adjusted his seat and spoke a little more forthcoming, “Can I ask if you are wearing clothing to bed that would cover below your...” He faltered, waving his hand around his waist. 

“Do you mean do I wear something that would restrict entrance from my husband into myself? No. I wear a simple shift to bed, no undergarments beyond that. “ Douce felt bold and now wanted the men to be embarrassed, not herself. She felt herself to be of a higher status than the men before her. She meant to impress upon them this fact, they would not embarrass her.  

The old man coughed before he spoke. “As it states in First Corinthians, the husband should give to his wife her conjugal rights, and likewise the wife to her husband. For the wife does not have authority over her own body, but the husband does. Do not deprive one another.” The old clergyman rushed out his words without a question or a statement but now a quote. 

The doctor looked at the priest with raised eyebrows and waited as a short silence rested between all three.

Douce took up the path of logic and answered the unsaid question within one silent beat. “Do I deny my husband? No. Does he deny me?” She paused looking upward to the left. “Then again, he does not frequent my bed. So if there is a question as to conjugal rights, I neither ask nor receive from a man who is barely at home. I make myself ready, but I demand not as I was raised to believe that a woman who asks is a woman who is wanton.” Beginning to feel a little belligerent, Douce threw in a twist to the plot. “We have no sex on Sundays, because that is the Lord’s Day, and also on Thursdays and Fridays, which are supposed to be days preparing for Communion. As well, we have three lengthy periods of abstinence – during Lent, which lasts sometimes up to two months; then before Christmas, which if I remember was at least 35 days; and around the Feast of Pentecost we made sure not to engage with each other. But, I cannot recall how many days exactly but somewhere between 40 to 60 days we did not share a bed. Also, for every feast day for our holy Saints would be considered abstinence days as well. And of course never when I am on my courses. So, between the days the church allows a married couple to share a bed and my husband’s love of sport, I can say that I have been available and yet there have been outside constraints which have hindered any pregnancy. I would highly recommend that this information be sent back to both my parents and his.”

The old priest nodded his head and appeared to be quite appeased by the adherence of the holy days. It appeared the church and its strict adherence was to blame for the lack of progeny, he pondered. 

Douce had knocked down that skittle pin and now was focusing upon the doctor. She still wondered if she had to submit herself to any examination but that still was yet to be determined. 

The doctor coughed and paused with his hand to his mouth for a moment longer than necessary. “When you do, come together, can you assure me that he does ride you and does leave his seed?”

Douce turned her head and wanted to push back this doctor as she did the priest before he had a chance to embarrass her. She took a deep breath and plunged into the delicate nature of positions which she knew he really wanted to ask. “Does my husband mount me from behind like a horse, no. Does he seek me sideways, no. And in all cases neither do I. Do I or my husband request or without thinking, stand when having sex? No. We understand well the instruction from the church that all sex is to be done lying down facing each other. We understand that sex is a duty and not to be enjoyed.”

“So you have had sex, you have not become pregnant then.” The doctor, his young eyes staring into hers, had now asked a question she could not get around.  

“Sir, no I have not experienced any conjugal rights as of yet or should I say none that I would recognize as conjugal.” She sat holding her breath wondering what would happen next.

“Well, then maybe we should have brought a lawyer with us,” replied the doctor. No one laughed and the quip fell into silence. Better than to blame the church for their strict rules, it appeared.

“I presume you may bring that news with you as well for I have been available when the church states it is right to be so.” Now she did not know where to go from here. Douce may have just painted herself into a corner.

The old priest leaned over and grabbed a mug of watered beer and this time he did look her in the eyes. She could see the pink skin around his yellow eyeballs. This time his eyes slitted as if he found the weak link in her argument. “Tell me, have either of you committed adultery?”

Again Douce felt reprieved. She could honestly answer for herself. “I can rest my hand on the bible and swear that never in my marriage have I ever entertained even the thought of another man in my bed. I remain chaste and forever loyal to my husband. So as you can see, I am loyal to both the church and my lord. I am not at fault.”

The priest pulled at his beard. “Have you committed any sin so that the Lord Almighty may have reason to smite you?” His voice rose sharply as if he thought he had finally found the reason this couple had no children. His wagging bony finger pointed at her but not in beat with his words, then rested on his lap.

“Father, I have followed the church rules, I have led a humble and pious life as is expected. The Lord has no reason to smite me. Those sort of questions should be put towards my husband. I presume you plan to have a meeting with him, or shall I venture he is blanketed with immunity.” Douce knew that oftentimes women were blamed for their barren womb when the men could not lift a thread with their cocks. She also had to consider how pressing the situation was if she were to pass the test of fertility and adherence to all the marriage laws. How far would they explore the situation with Conrad?

Eventually the priest and the doctor were satisfied with their discoveries and they would bring the news to both their parents who were both interested for more than familial reasons as to why this couple did not have any children. If the truth be plucked from her story alone it would appear that neither time nor opportunity was on the young couple's side. Both parties were innocent of any wrongdoing. It was only the doctor that harboured deep suspicions but due to the position of both families, he knew better than to explore the reasons that this young husband who was married to a beautiful young bride would not take her, and often at that. His suspicions lay within the facts of Conrad spending so much time hunting with his male friends, being either his preference for men or the illusion of hunting when actually he was meeting with another woman. Then again, maybe the young man did not know how to handle the invitation. No matter either of those choices, the reasons were not wise to chase. Even the doctor calculated that time and opportunity was the best answer for all involved.  

The door to the room opened and the stooped man servant stood there ready to take instructions with the nod of his head. 

“What am I to secure for the reasons you have determined as to my lack of childbearing? What reasons will you give my parents and his?” She knew at this point to soften the approach. The whole argument could go sideways with one of these men pointing the finger at her.

“It is simple my dear,” said the priest. “You have had no opportunity if you are so observant with church rules.”

“And neither have you had time when your husband is doing his duty outside with his people,” continued the doctor. “We will discuss this further with his family to see if your husband was instructed in his duty.”

The catapult of blame passed right by her, thankfully. Douce smile. The result was much better than she expected. It appeared her forthright manner was the best way to meander down this difficult topic. The man servant, having heard the conclusion, gave a half smile to his lady and waved his hand towards the door to indicate to the visitors that the time was now to leave. 

Douce heard the men’s carriage wheels turn on the path before the manor and the sound of the horse’s plodding hooves slowly faded away. She picked up a small thread and needle that was tucked into a patch of cloth by the fireplace and aimed to place it back in her room. The stooped over man servant walked in, but since his bow to his lord and lady was in permanent half bend, he stood there making a small cough to remind Douce that he was still within ear shot.  

“I wish to have a hot cup of pennyroyal tea in my room.” Bruna had left her a small bag full of the minty flavoured infusion upstairs. Although pungent in odour, Douce had come to appreciate the sharpness of the flavour when mixed with a bit of honey. She never allowed her supply to go empty. Then she paused for a second thinking of how valuable she was between her knees and her neck.....her knees and her neck.

The man servant left shaking his head as he headed towards the kitchen. He said nothing, as no one asked him. But when the time was right, he would switch the pennyroyal with their own garden mint, when the time was right, and when she requested.