The Chatter of the Maidens (13 page)

They rode for some time. Then the weather changed.

A bank of cloud low on the horizon suddenly began to grow, blooming quickly like some weird, black fungus, spreading rapidly up the sky. There was a distant, ominous growl of thunder.

Saul, edging the cob up close beside Helewise, said urgently, ‘Abbess, there’s a storm coming!’

‘Indeed there is, Brother Saul. What do you—?’

But Augustine, in the lead, interrupted. Turning round, he called out, ‘If we proceed to Sedgebeck, we’re going to be drenched. It will take time – we have to find the way, and it’s likely some of the dykes and ditches may flood if there’s heavy rain. But it’s a straight road to Denney, and only another four or five miles – should we not head there, Abbess?’

She thought quickly. Keep to the plan and seek out the convent hidden away in the fens? Or divert and go to Denney?

Another clap of thunder rolled towards them across the flat land. Swiftly making up her mind, she called out to Augustine, ‘Lead us to Denney!’

They arrived as the first raindrops started to fall; big, round and hard as stones, they pounded agonisingly on to the three riders. Helewise tried to cover her head with one hand as she watched Augustine shouting at the porter above the sounds of the storm; he must have known exactly what to say for, after a moment, the big gate was thrown open and they all rode inside.

A couple of sacking-covered figures ran out to help, taking the horses and hurrying them under cover as another figure, also sheltering under a sack, peered out from a partly-opened door and beckoned the Abbess and the two lay brothers inside.

It was only as this figure was removing its sack and speaking words of welcome that Helewise realised it was a man. Hurriedly responding to the greeting, she asked, ‘Is this not the Benedictine house at Denney?’

And the man, who, with the sack fully removed, was revealed as young, fresh-faced and dressed in a black habit, said, ‘No. This is indeed Denney, but you are come to the Templar preceptory. Was it the Benedictines whom you sought, Sister?’

‘It was,’ she replied.

The man cocked an ear to another great rumble of thunder. ‘Then I suggest you delay your mission until morning, and stay with us for this wild night.’

She could almost feel the relief coming off her two companions. With a bow to the black-robed monk, she said, ‘Thank you. We gratefully accept your hospitality.’

The guesthouse of the Templars was luxurious.

Helewise, who was, she reckoned, probably the only woman under the preceptory’s roof, had a room to herself. She was provided with hot water, a delicious meal and a jug of wine, and a fire was lit for her to dry her clothing. She slept soundly, in a very comfortable bed with linen sheets and soft, woollen blankets.

Reunited with Saul and Augustine in the morning, the same monk who had received them the night before led them to a small room, where they were served breakfast. Helewise was just wondering why they were kept apart from the community when the monk said, ‘Forgive us if we appear preoccupied. We are in the midst of grave afflictions that demand our Master’s full attention, and that of our senior brothers.’

‘I am sorry that we add to your burdens,’ Helewise replied.

‘Please, no need for apologies.’ The monk smiled at her. ‘I have been detailed to give you what help I can; may I take you to the Benedictine house, for example? Perhaps if you could reveal your business with the sisters there. . . .’

Helewise saw no reason to ignore his invitation. She explained her mission but, before she had finished, the monk had begun to shake his head. ‘Abbess – forgive me for having addressed you as Sister last night – Abbess, I can save you a wasted journey, for the nuns at Denney are most unlikely to have accepted your Sister Alba into their community. The nuns are all – er,
mature
in years, and without exception have been in the convent many years. Newcomers do not present themselves there seeking to join the community, for the work is arduous, and the Lord calls few to serve Him there.’

Helewise suppressed a sigh. Oh, dear, it looked as though she and the lay brothers were going to have to brave Sedgebeck. She met the young monk’s anxious eyes. ‘I see,’ she said. ‘In that case, we must go on to the convent at Sedgebeck, and enquire whether the nuns there know of our Sister Alba.’

‘Sedgebeck,’ the young monk repeated, frowning. ‘I seem to recall the name . . . now where did I hear tell of the place?’ His face cleared and he had just begun on a cheerful ‘Yes, I recall now!’ when the door opened and another, older monk entered.

Without preamble, the newcomer said curtly, ‘Brother Timothy? Your presence is required in the dormitory, where Brother Adam needs you to help him repair the roof.’

The younger man had leapt to his feet. ‘But I was just. . . .’

‘Now, please, Brother Timothy,’ the older monk said, in a voice which allowed for no argument.

With a bow to Helewise, and a deeper bow to his fellow monk, Brother Timothy left the room.

The older monk said, ‘You are bound for Sedgebeck, Abbess?’ Helewise nodded. ‘Then I recommend that you leave as soon as the rain stops.’

With no further speech – and no explanation of his remark – he, too, left the room.

Helewise and the two lay brothers saw no other monks before they left. Soon after midday, at last the rain eased up and allowed them to get on their way, and Helewise reflected that, whatever was preoccupying the brethren at Denney, it must be quite serious. Grateful for their hospitality, even if they had been somewhat aloof, she prayed that their troubles would soon be resolved.

They made reasonable progress along tracks made muddy and sodden with rain. Refreshed from a good night’s sleep and a generous breakfast, they did not stop for more than a brief halt and, by late afternoon, Augustine reckoned they could not have many more miles to go.

In the lead as before, he drew rein and, shading his eyes against the sunset, stared out over the wetlands to the south. ‘I can see a rise, there, straight ahead,’ he commented.

Helewise looked where he was pointing. ‘Yes, I see it. Do you think it is Sedgebeck?’

‘Hope so,’ Saul muttered.

‘Come along, then,’ she said decisively. ‘It cannot be far. If we press on, we should surely be there before long.’

They pressed on. But, no matter how hard they tried to steer a straight line towards the rise, obstacles seemed to keep throwing themselves in their path. They would come to a lode just too wide for the horses to jump safely, or just too deep to ford. And, every time they had to divert to the east or the west, the growing darkness made it that much more difficult to discern the faint hump that was Sedgebeck.

After a long, anxious wait while Augustine stood up in the stirrups, peering into the gloom, Helewise said, ‘Can you still see the place, Augustine?’

‘I
think
so,’ he replied, his voice sounding blessedly normal. Then: ‘Aye. We must head along this bank,’ – he indicated to the left – ‘quickly find a place to cross, then go straight ahead. That should do us.’

Saul was muttering under his breath. It sounded as if he were praying.

They found a piece of reasonably firm ground and put the horses at the ditch crossing their path. All landed safely; perhaps, Helewise thought, we should
all
join in with Saul’s prayers, since the dear Lord seems to be listening.

They set out towards the island. The ghostly shape of a large, home-going bird flew across in front of them, a dark silhouette against the last of the light; Augustus said calmly, ‘Heron.’ And, as the warm, damp darkness seemed to settle around them, they heard the high-pitched, unmistakable whine of mosquitoes.

Slapping at her cheek, Helewise said urgently, ‘
Hurry
, Augustine!’

But, still calm, his voice floated back to her, ‘No need for alarm, Abbess. It’s best to make our way carefully, let the horses pick out their own path. Don’t worry, they know where it’s safe to tread.’

Fighting down her panic, Helewise took a couple of deep, steadying breaths, and began to pray.

It was fully dark when at last they climbed the slope up on to the island. The wet, heavy clay soil stuck to the horses’ feet, and their hooves made a different sound in the still night.

From the low, reed-thatched buildings ahead that seemed to be the convent came neither sound nor light. Oh, dear God, there’s nobody here! Helewise thought. They’ve fled, or all died of the ague, or run from the demons and devils. . . .

She heard a low moan from Saul. In front of her, Augustine sat on Horace’s back as if turned to stone. They are my responsibility, these good, loyal men, she told herself. I must not sit here in dread – it is I who brought them here, and it is I who must try to rescue this awful situation. . . .

Leaping into action before her fear could overcome her totally, she slid off Honey’s back – the horses were not afraid, she noted almost subconsciously, so it couldn’t be that bad – and, handing the reins to Saul, strode up to what looked like an opening in the low wooden stockade surrounding the buildings. There was a hurdle drawn across the gap, which she pushed aside. Immediately some animal that had been penned inside rushed past her and disappeared, with a splash of running feet, into the fen.

Oh, dear, she thought, hoping that the creature, whatever it was, wouldn’t go far. She slid the hurdle back in place again, and went on towards the nearest of the buildings, which was the only one of any size.

Feeling foolish, she called out softly, ‘Hello? Is anybody within? I seek the Abbess of Sedgebeck.’

From inside there was a rustling sound, as if someone were stirring in a bed of straw. ‘Who’s there?’ a loud voice cried. ‘Who comes to disturb our sleep? Be warned, we have dogs we shall set on you!’

‘No!’ Helewise exclaimed. She heard Saul crashing through the gap in the fence, and an instant later he was at her side. He had a cudgel in his hand which, she was sure, he hadn’t been carrying when they left Hawkenlye.

‘This is the Abbess of Hawkenlye!’ he shouted. ‘She comes on an important mission! Open up, in charity, and let us in!’

There was more rustling, and a pad of footsteps. Then a small wooden shutter in the door was slid back, revealing the sudden blinding light of a lantern. A pair of eyes peered out, narrowed in suspicion. ‘Hawkenlye?’ the voice said. ‘Hawkenlye, where the Holy Waters are?’

‘Yes,’ Helewise said, trying to sound calm and reassuring. ‘We mean you no harm, in God’s name. We need shelter.’

‘Hawkenlye,’ the voice repeated. Its gruff tone made it difficult to tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman. ‘Aye, that’s a fair step away, I’ll warrant.’

‘We have been on the road a week,’ Helewise began, ‘and—’

Abruptly there came the sound of a heavy bar being drawn back, and the door swung open. ‘Then you’d better come in, you and your manservant,’ said their host.

Who, in the lantern light from within the building, was revealed to be a very tall, strongly-built woman, wearing the sleeping cap of a nun on her head and, covering her from chin to ankle, a voluminous, cream linen chemise, much darned and none too clean.

‘I am accompanied by two lay brothers,’ Helewise said, hesitating on the doorstep, ‘and we each have a horse. . . .’

The huge nun glanced outside, taking in at a glance the figure of Saul, just behind the Abbess, and, beyond him, Augustine holding the horses. ‘The men and the horses can go in there.’ She held the lantern aloft, pointing with the other hand towards one of the other two buildings, smaller and less well maintained than the main one. ‘Hardly a stable, since we have no horse, but there’s straw in there for our pig, and it’ll keep out the mist and the fumes of the night air.’

‘Will you be all right, Abbess?’ Saul muttered in her ear.

‘Yes, Saul. You and Augustine get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.’

She watched them head off for the outhouse. Then she followed the nun inside and closed the door. The nun edged her out of the way and barred it.

Then she turned and stared at Helewise. Indicating a curtained-off area at the far end of the room, she said, ‘The others are in there. I’ll tell them who you are and why you’ve come, then I’ll heat some water and make you a hot drink.’

‘Thank you,’ Helewise replied vaguely.

Tell them why you’ve come
. But how could the big nun possibly know, since Helewise hadn’t told her? She felt a shiver of fear run through her. This place, this desolate place, she thought, trying to be rational, must be affecting her. She must have misheard. . . .

The nun was back within moments. Talking as she moved about, poking up the fire in the central hearth and suspending a pot over it from a tripod, she said, ‘I’ve some chamomile, it will help you sleep. And perhaps a pinch of valerian. There, it’ll soon be ready.’ She fetched an earthenware mug, dusted it on the skirt of her gown, and placed it on the floor beside the hearth. ‘Really,’ she went on in the same conversational tone, ‘we were quite sure we’d seen the last of Alba.’