The Chatter of the Maidens (28 page)

‘Berthe?’ he said.

She raised her face and looked up at him. ‘Yes?’

‘The blame is mine. I thought I could return alone to the camp, and speak to Jerome. As God is my witness, I meant no harm – in fact, quite the opposite. But I am not as stealthy a tracker as you, or young Augustine – Jerome heard me coming. He and Meriel disappeared into the trees and, try as I might, I could not find them. I called out till I was hoarse, but they would not come out of their hiding place.’

Berthe was the only one to be comforted by Bastian’s announcement; Helewise, totally perplexed, saw from Josse’s face that he was equally puzzled.

‘What business did
you
have with Jerome?’ Josse asked.

‘And,’ Helewise added, ‘what was so alarming about it that Jerome was driven to run away from you and hide?’

Bastian gave a sigh. ‘Should we not put this aside for now and proceed with our search?’ he asked hopefully.

Together Helewise and Josse said decisively, ‘No.’

He sighed again. ‘Very well. Abbess, when I said that my nephew Felix had been on the point of joining our Order, I was sparing with the truth; it was but a lie of omission, but a lie nevertheless. Jerome, too, was destined to join us.’

‘
Jerome
was?’ Berthe said incredulously. ‘But he’s in love with Meriel! He’s
married
to her; I saw them wed, I was there!’

‘Yes, I know.’ Bastian smiled kindly at her. ‘However, there was a time before he knew her when he believed he had a call from God. When he met and fell in love with Meriel – and I gather that the two events were very nearly simultaneous – he believed he was doing a great wrong, both to God and to our Order. He thought that he had no option but to run away, which is exactly what he did. He married Meriel, and the young couple were planning to leave, with Berthe, when Alba – that is, when Alba acted.’

‘She told Meriel that Jerome was dead,’ Berthe whispered. ‘It broke Meriel’s heart. And then—’

Very gently, Helewise put a hand to Berthe’s face and pressed it to her chest. ‘No, Berthe,’ she said firmly. ‘There is no need for any more. We all know.’

She met Bastian’s eyes, trying to urge him to hurry on with his tale. Understanding, immediately he did so.

‘Jerome set off to follow Alba and the girls, and I set someone to follow him,’ he said. ‘I was relieved, Abbess, when you jumped to the conclusion that Jerome had been
helped
by another, more experienced monk; in fact, Jerome needed nobody’s help. Indeed, he threw Brother Bartholomew off the trail quite early on. It was only an inspired guess that brought Bartholomew on to Hawkenlye.’ His expression fell into sadness.

‘Brother Bartholomew is the man who died in the Vale?’ Josse said.

Bastian nodded. ‘Yes, that was him. A fine man, loyal, willing. And a good monk.’

‘We have prayed for him, Brother Bastian,’ Helewise said.

Bastian nodded.

After a brief and rather awkward pause, Josse said, ‘Brother Bastian, how did
you
find your way to Hawkenlye?’

Bastian gave a brief smile. ‘I followed the Abbess.’

Before she could stop herself, Helewise burst out, ‘I
knew
we were being followed! Did I not say so, Sir Josse?’

‘Aye, Abbess.’ He, too, seemed to be suppressing a smile.

‘I knew, naturally, that you were going from Denney to Sedgebeck,’ Bastian said. ‘In fact, Brother Timothy told me a great deal about you and your mission. He also, incidentally, almost gave away to you why the name Sedgebeck was familiar to him; I managed to send Brother Matthew to distract him just in time. It would not have done for you to find out that the Templars at Denney knew all about Alba of Sedgebeck. Now where was I? Ah, yes. I was telling you how I managed to follow you. I merely had to ensure that I did not miss you when you left the Sedgebeck nuns and, after that, it was easy.’

‘You were watching in the wood at Medely?’ Helewise demanded. ‘When—’

‘I was. It was you, Abbess, who led me to that terrible discovery in the burned-out cottage. My heartfelt thanks are due to you and the brothers for undertaking a task there that should have been mine.’

She whispered, ‘The burial?’, and he nodded.

Stunned, she could not think what to say.

But Josse, she was relieved to find, was not so easily distracted. ‘You still have not told us why you had to find Jerome,’ he said. ‘Nor explained why you blame yourself for making him flee.’

Bastian stared at Josse. ‘Have you not guessed?’ he asked gently.

‘I imagine you intend to take him back to Denney by force,’ Josse began, ‘and make him honour whatever vow he has made to your Order.’

There was a small silence. Then Bastian said, ‘Sir Josse, we do not force men to become Knights Templar.’ A wry expression briefly crossed his face. ‘Usually we have no need. And Jerome has no vows to honour; as yet he has taken none.’

‘Then why—?’ Helewise began.

‘Abbess,’ Bastian said, ‘I needed to seek Jerome out to tell him he had run away needlessly.’ He put his face closer to hers, as if by so doing he might more readily convince her. ‘I
had
to find him. Don’t you see? Unless I did, he would always carry a needlessly guilty conscience, believing he had committed a grave sin where there had been, in fact, no sin at all.’

Swinging round, away from the little group, he said in exasperation, ‘Abbess Helewise, Sir Josse, I did
not
want to haul Jerome back to Denney, fling him in a punishment cell and turn him into a Templar! I sought him so as to give him and Meriel my heartfelt blessings on their marriage!’

 

Helewise was finding Bastian’s revelation quite hard to take in.

‘You mean,’ she said slowly, ‘that all this – Brother Bartholomew’s arrival, and his death, then your coming after him – has been purely to let Jerome know he is free to wed Meriel, and to give him the Templars’ blessings for a long and happy life?’

‘That was how it began, yes,’ Bastian agreed. ‘Although, of course, things took altogether a more desperate turn when we found out what Alba was capable of. When we guessed she had—’ He glanced at Berthe, then resumed. ‘When Felix went missing and our terrible suspicions dawned about what that child might really have witnessed, then there was another, more pressing reason to find the runaways.’

Josse, Helewise noticed, was studying the monk. ‘You really do care for Jerome, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ Bastian said. ‘He is, as I believe you know, my kinsman. But I should care for him anyway. He is a good lad. Headstrong and impetuous, perhaps, but still a good lad.’

Helewise pulled herself out of her reverie. ‘Sir Josse, Brother Bastian,’ she said, ‘we have stood here talking for long enough. I intend to keep Berthe close to me’ – she took firm hold of the girl’s hand – ‘but now, if you please, we must resume our search for Alba. Berthe, which path did you say she took?’

‘That one.’ Berthe pointed.

‘Then that is where we, too, must go.’

And striding out with firm steps, Helewise led her little party away.

The great forest was uncannily silent.

Helewise, walking ahead of Josse and Bastian, with Berthe clutching tight to her hand, felt a growing sense of oppression. We have introduced a discordant element here, she thought, a shiver of dread going through her. And the forest doesn’t like it. The birds have fallen quiet; the breeze no longer stirs the young leaves on the trees. It’s as if – as if the whole place is holding its breath. There is no air.

Panic fluttered in her. Then, with her free hand, she grasped the plain wooden cross that hung over her heart. This is still Your place, dear Lord, whoever else may live and worship here, she thought, comforted. This new harm that has been brought in is not of our instigation. Please, of Thy mercy, protect us as we try to redress it.

Berthe gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Are you praying, Abbess?’ she whispered.

‘I was, yes. I’ve finished now. I was just asking God for His help.’

‘Did He hear you?’

‘He always hears.’

‘And will he help us?’

Helewise looked down into the earnest little face. It was not really the moment to explain how God’s help sometimes takes an unexpected guise, and that we must have faith that what happens is always for our ultimate good. So she just said, ‘I hope so, Berthe.’

Behind them, Josse gave a muted gasp. Instantly turning to him, Helewise said, ‘What? What is it?’

Wordlessly, he pointed.

Ahead of them, the narrow track led into a small clearing. One or two ancient trees had died, and were lying at odd angles against their living neighbours. The space above, which had been opened up by their falling, had allowed new growth on the forest floor; a beam of sunshine lit up the glade, and the clearing was full of bluebells.

In one of the largest of the living oaks, astride a sturdy branch leading out from the wide trunk, sat Alba.

Her habit, stained and torn from her scramble up through the lower branches, was crumpled up around her bare thighs, but her coif and veil were neatly in place. In her hands she held her rope belt.

Helewise turned to Bastian, who was right at her shoulder. ‘Please, Brother Bastian,’ she said, very quietly. ‘I understand your urge to confront her, but please let me speak to her alone. At first, anyway.’

‘She may be violent,’ Bastian hissed back.

‘I do not believe she will be violent towards me,’ Helewise replied; she had no idea
why
she should believe that so strongly, but believe it she did. She stared into the Templar’s passionate face. ‘And if she threatens me,’ she added with a small smile, ‘then you have my full permission to come to my aid.’

For an instant he went on glaring at her. Then, grinning, he said, ‘Very well.’ He added something else, which she thought might have been, ‘God go with you.’

Gently pushing Berthe towards Josse, Helewise walked on into the glade alone.

Alba was humming softly to herself. She did not notice Helewise until she was standing right beneath Alba’s tree. Then, peering down, she said, ‘Abbess Helewise. Greetings.’

‘Greetings, Alba,’ Helewise replied. ‘We have been worried about you,’ she went on, pleased to discover that her voice sounded almost normal. ‘Berthe told us that she had let you out. We were all wondering where you had gone.’

‘I had to get away, Abbess,’ Alba said dramatically, leaning down from her branch. ‘Brother Bastian would have me hanged.’

Not allowing herself to turn round and look towards where Bastian stood concealed, Helewise asked, ‘Did you kill the young man?’

‘I thought he was Jerome!’ Alba’s voice was indignant. ‘I thought I had killed Jerome! I only guessed that I hadn’t when I found out Meriel had run away – there was only one person in the world for whom Meriel would have abandoned Berthe, and that was Jerome. They tricked me back in Medely, my sister and her lover, and they made me kill an innocent man! Oh, Abbess, I have prayed and prayed for forgiveness. I didn’t mean to kill
Felix
– that was Meriel’s fault, Meriel’s and Jerome’s.’

‘But you wanted to kill Jerome,’ Helewise said. ‘Why was that, Alba?’

‘I couldn’t let my sister leave me.’ Alba gave a great, dry sob. ‘I have to keep them both close, Meriel and Berthe. While Father was alive, I knew they’d stay with him. He’d never have let them go. He only let me enter the convent at Sedgebeck because he had Meriel and Berthe to take my place. I was going to be an Abbess, just like you. I was doing really well, they all liked me. But then they told me Father was dead. I knew what would happen; I knew my little sisters would run away, even before his poor body was cold. And I couldn’t allow that. They have to be
close
!’ Her voice had turned shrill.

‘Why must you keep them close?’ Helewise felt a stab of compassion for the woman in the tree. Such a pathetic hiding place. . . .

‘People leave me,’ Alba said. ‘My mother left me, and I had to live with Father. Nobody liked Father, and so nobody would be friends with me. You see, Abbess? Meriel and Berthe are
mine
, they’re all I have.’

‘I do see, Alba,’ Helewise replied. Dear God, but there was a weird logic in Alba’s argument. ‘But you can’t keep them with you if the course of their lives takes them away. We’re all put here for a purpose. None of us may decide what another’s purpose is, no matter how much we love them.’

‘I must keep them close,’ Alba repeated doggedly. ‘Oh, Abbess, it was such a perfect plan to come here! I was to be a Hawkenlye nun straightaway – quite a senior one – and Meriel, then Berthe, would become nuns too. We’d all be together, I could tell them what to do, and they’d never leave me.’

There were so many points to argue with in that little address that Helewise didn’t even bother to start. Instead, reverting to something Alba had said earlier, she said, ‘Your mother didn’t leave you, Alba. She died. When you were born. She couldn’t help it, and I’m quite sure it wasn’t her choice. She must have wanted more than anything to live, because she had your father and you, and she would have been happy in her new home.’