“Nothing yet. I did do some research before I came, but I wanted to see what you said first. Look.” Shannon rummaged in one of her bags and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper which she thrust at Hildegarde. “I printed this out from the internet.” Ignoring Hildegarde’s baffled expression, she continued, “Back in 1231, a group of princes called the Bolohoveni fought as allies with the Hungarians. I think they came from near Romania and the Ukraine. Now, I know people in this time know all about the East European countries but in everything I read, I never heard much about those areas. I thought we could say my mother is ill; well, that will be true enough, anyway. And, if we live in Bolohovenia, it’s so obscure, no one will have heard of it, will they? Have you ever heard of it?”
Hildegarde felt another reluctant smile tug at her lips. Shannon had certainly been thorough. “I must confess, I have not. And, like you, I have never come across anyone who has been in that region. That was clever of you, Shannon. And we can use it to account for anything which may seem strange about you, any odd turns of phrase or any slips you may make.” She nodded, satisfied. “Yes, I think it will do. We do have one other problem though.”
Shannon cocked her head. “Yes, I know. Isabella didn’t say anything, but I think she was wondering why I’m travelling alone. She’s going to ask. I’m sure she is. What can I say? I didn’t expect to meet anyone before I got to the abbey.”
“Foolish child, how did you think you would explain your arrival to my porteress and prioress?”
Shannon looked rather sheepish.
“You didn’t think, did you?”
“No. Sorry, I was so excited, and I thought I had everything covered. I forgot that bit.” She fiddled with her veil, her eyes distant. “I know, how about, isn’t there an outbreak of spotted fever at the moment? Couldn’t I say my escort went down with that?”
“You have done your homework, haven’t you?” Hildegarde had to admire her; she hadn’t missed much of the minutiae. Even her clothing appeared pretty much correct. “In fact, our last outbreak of that locally was last year. Please God, there won’t be another.” She thought for a moment before asking wryly, “And just where will you say you left your escort? Have you, metaphorically speaking, left their dying bodies strewn across the shire?”
“Well, perhaps I could say I was on a pilgrimage? Maybe they escorted me to the fringes of the village then followed my instructions to leave me?”
“It’s a little thin, Shannon. Perhaps you could combine both stories. You know,” she leaned her chin on her hand meditatively, “when I became a nun, I had hoped to be always only speaking the truth. Your mother has already pushed my construction of ‘truth’ to its limits. I would prefer you to think up this story on your own if you are able.”
“Sure.” She seemed dubious though. “But you’ll tell me if it won’t work, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Hildegarde patted her hand. “Continue. You’re doing well so far. We will hope you don’t have to explain yourself to more than Lady Isabella. For certѐs, arriving with them means you haven’t aroused the curiosity of my nuns.” She paused, remembering her prioress hovering like some stray cat in search of a dish of cream. “Well, only by the way you blithely announced I was your aunt. Still, that is one obstacle which is easily overcome, and we may be able to turn it to our advantage. It certainly gives you a reason for visiting. Why shall you say your mother sent you, though?”
“To ask for your prayers and your care of me whilst she’s sick,” Shannon said promptly.
“And what of your father and your household? Could they not have cared for you?”
“Oh no. They’re all sick with spotted fever. My parents were so afraid I might catch it.”
“So they sent you here, where we also have spotted fever?”
“Oh, not like it is in Bolohovenia! It’s as bad as the plague over there, you know. Why, nothing else is heard of the Bolohovenians after the thirteenth century. It’s so bad over there, it must have killed everyone off by then.”
She had an answer for everything, Hildegarde had to give her that.
“And that’s why I’m on a pilgrimage, you see. For my whole family. And it’s why I needed to be sent to the care of my aunt. I’ll try to avoid going into detail to Isabella; I’m very good at being evasive.”
“So you are.” And very determined. Hildegarde bowed to the inevitable. Shannon was here, and here she would stay – at least until she could be convinced to go home. She hid a smile. Shannon might find the twelfth century was not so much fun as she imagined. She could help with that, she thought. An abbey wasn’t the most exciting place for a teenager from the twenty-first century.
“Auntie H, may I ask you a question?”
Hildegarde wore an expression which might have been pained but for the tell-tale quiver at the corners of her mouth. “Shannon, much as I enjoy the novelty of being called Auntie H, I think it would be more seemly for you to refer to me as Aunt Hildegarde or merely Abbess. If you should be overheard addressing me as aught else, I’m afraid it would rather, er…”
“Blow my cover?”
“Quite. And by the same token, I think it better that I call you Rohese. Or was it Eleanor? Those were the names your mother used when she was here. If we use the same names in private, we will not err in public.”
“Rohese. Chloe was Eleanor. We used to play at being medieval when we were kids. Mum told you? How clever of you to remember.” Shannon grinned brightly. “Okay.” Hildegarde winced, and Shannon clapped her hand to her mouth. “Oops, I mean of course, Aunt Hildegarde.”
“It’s harder to stay in character than you realised, my child, is it not? Vital though, if you are to pass unnoticed. If you slip, you put yourself and all connected with you in grave danger. Please, do not underestimate the risks; this may seem like a game to you, but, in truth, it’s a perilous one.”
“Oka…I mean, yes, Aunt, I’ll do my best.”
“See that you do.” Hildegarde relaxed the stern set of her mouth, and her lips twitched into a warm smile. “I confess, despite the difficulties of having you here, the pleasure of being with kin is something I never expected to enjoy again. I know not how short our time together will be; however, since I cannot remove you, I intend to enjoy your company for as long as you remain. Truly, I never expected to see any of my family again. Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?”
“Auntie…I mean Aunt, why did you become a nun? I mean, you weren’t going to be one in our time, were you?”
Hildegarde steepled her hands together and closed her eyes for a moment. “In truth, it was not my intention, but consider the options open to me here. I arrived from nowhere, with no family, no background, no protector and no means of providing for myself. I did not fit into any of the classes here. With no history, it would have been impossible to find acceptance.
“Sister Ursel saw me arrive. Bless her, she coped admirably, for my wits were wandering so much, I would have blundered my way straight into peril. She took me to Abbess Bertrille.”
She paused again, as if the memories overwhelmed her. “Two wonderfully adaptive women. They shielded me, helped me fit in, as it were. At first, I was just grateful to be safe, wished only to return to my own time, then, something strange happened.” She laughed. “Stranger even than falling into another time, I mean.” Hildegarde looked at her hands, then at Shannon. Shannon gazed back intently.
“Gradually, and quite unexpectedly, I found I had developed a relationship not just with the other sisters but with God.”
“You could have kept that even if you’d gone home, couldn’t you?”
“I could, of course, but that relationship became so sweet, so intense, I found it didn’t matter to me to return. Then, too, I began to understand the good I could do serving Him here. And almost without my noticing, the abbey became my home; the sisters truly became my sisters, and I knew that, unless God called me to return home, I would remain here.”
“All that prayer,
though! I mean, there’s loads of it, isn’t there? Don’t you get bored?”
Not really a surprising question, Hildegarde mused, though for her, the answer was as simple as breathing. She continued, “At its essence, prayer is simply talking to God as though He is your friend. Yes, as Creator, but as infinitely more than that. In finding Him, I found a safe place for my heart to dwell.”
Shannon sat spellbound, for, as Hildegarde spoke, her words resonated with what felt like a supernatural power, and the peace of the abbey took on an intensity which was almost physical. Despite the austerity of her habit, an inner radiance shone from her.
At last, Shannon found her voice. “Didn’t you miss Gran, though? She told Mum she was so upset when you disappeared. Didn’t you ever want to see her again?”
“Oh, Rohese, of course I missed her. But she had your grandfather, your uncle, your mother. I had no close family other than her, and the longer I was here, the more that century faded. I could have a ministry here. I was happy. I missed Ann, but it was impossible to have both her and my life here. We can rarely have everything we want. We all have to make choices; this was mine.
“And now, child, you had better show me what you have brought with you to wear, and we’ll make sure you will pass scrutiny.”
Shannon was complacent. “Oh, I will. I bought stuff from a re-enactment society. I even got the right shoes. They cost me a fortune,” she said virtuously, thrusting one foot out from beneath her gown, showing a tan leather shoe, tied at the ankle.
“I am impressed. And what of your other garments?”
“Well, this is what Mum bought for a medieval banquet. She wore it when she was here last.” She indicated the deep red bliaut and the dark grey undergown she was wearing beneath her russet travelling cloak, then tugged at her veil and wimple. “I don’t know about this though. Do I really need to wear one? I couldn’t find anything definite about when they came in.”
“Indeed not; you are unwed and young enough that you may wear just a veil with a circlet or braid to secure it, and I would suggest one in a lighter fabric than that. I think you were wise though, to wear the wimple for travelling, alone as you were. The more respectable you appear, the safer.”
“I have another one.” Shannon’s face fell as she untied her shoe and saw the state of her spare veil. “At least, I thought I had. I fell and twisted my ankle and used it for a bandage.”
“Ah yes, I noticed you limping. Well, that one won’t do either, I’m afraid. We’ll settle you in a chamber shortly and have Sister Ursel or Sister Etheldreda take a look at you.” She knelt and expertly examined Shannon’s foot. Shannon winced. “I’m sorry, I’m being as gentle as I can, but I need to check there are no bones broken. Bear with me a moment longer.
Shannon caught her lower lip between her teeth as Hildegarde probed again with her long, slender fingers then sat back on her heels. “No, just a bad sprain; it will be painful for a few days yet, I’m afraid, but it could have been worse. You did a good job with that bandage.
“Now,” Hildegarde got to her feet and lifted Shannon’s bags onto her desk, “what do we have here?” She pulled out a yellow gown and unfolded it, spreading it across the wood. “Very nice; you won’t be wearing it with that grey undergown, will you?”
“No, I have a mauve one here for beneath that, and a plain white shift for spare. And see!” She rummaged in the same bag and pulled out two more gowns, one of fine linen in a shade of deep rose with a pale pink undergown and, less suitably, a peacock-blue silk gown, with orange embroidery and glass beads stitched onto it, which she laid down carefully before shaking out an orange undergown. “It’s not a combo I’d wear at home, but they like bright colours here, don’t they?”
Hildegarde looked dubious. “Sha…I mean Rohese, my dear, I’m afraid this is too fine if you wish to avoid making yourself the subject of speculation. We want people to know you are well bred; however, to appear too nobly born or wealthy might attract more attention than would be wise. Now, I know you are disappointed, but this is more of a court gown.”
Shannon’s mouth took on that stubborn pout which Hildegarde had noticed earlier. Then she sighed, resignedly. “I suppose. It cost me so much though. Maybe I can wear it at one of the re-enactment things when I get home or to a medieval banquet or something.”
Hildegarde took pity on her. “Ah well, as you are my ‘niece’, I suppose I might be expected to indulge you a little. Would it cheer you if I were to procure you something in a more suitable fabric? We can stitch it together. I’m sure some of my nimble-fingered sisters would enjoy helping you. It will make a change from embroidering altar cloths.”
The mobile mouth quirked back up. Not a face suitable for playing poker, Hildegarde thought. I hope she can cover her feelings better than that when she is not with me. “Now,” she continued, holding up a pair of briefs, “I’m afraid these really will not do – but you knew that, didn’t you?” Doubtless she didn’t expect me to go through her bags. A good job I did, though.
“But…but–”
Hildegarde shook her head. “According to the history books I read, women of this era do not wear undergarments such as knickers.” Shannon opened her mouth to protest. Hildegarde forestalled her, holding up her hand for silence. “Do not be so hasty child, allow me to continue. History, in my opinion, came to that conclusion because so few items of underclothing from this period have survived. I have found some women do wear a form of undergarment, although not all, and it’s said men frown upon it.” She smiled. “In my situation, I am not able to be entirely sure about this; certainly, we wear something when our menses are upon us. So, you may not wear the undergarments you have brought with you, for they may be discovered when you change or bathe. I will find you something more suitable.”
Turning her attention to the bag again, she pulled out a pair of shoes made from pale, soft pigskin decorated with embroidery with buckled straps to fasten them across the instep. “Now, these are very nice. You may wear them so long it does not rain. This is the first period of good weather we have enjoyed since Saint Guthlac’s Day. I truly thought the relentless downpour would never cease. Happily, the ground has mostly dried now; we may even manage a better harvest than expected. By the saints, we need it.” She sighed. “We’ve done our best to help ease the deprivations of the last few years, but even our storehouse is not endless.”
Shannon nodded. “I read about that, and I thought, since I can’t pay you for my keep, I could bring something useful.” She reached for the other bag and, with the air of a conjuror, pulled out two small sacks. “Here! There’s some meds in there and these. One of lentils and one of split peas. I bought as many as I could carry. I didn’t think you’d want them in plastic bags though.” She grinned.
“Rohese, my dear, how thoughtful. We can certainly put these to good use.”
“I just wish I could have brought more; that was all I could manage, but they go a long way, don’t they? Mum makes loads of soup from just a small pack.”
“They certainly do go a long way. You chose wisely. They’re a most acceptable gift, thank you, my dear. And now, I suggest we put all your garments back into your bag and allow you to rest.” She twitched the other bag out of Shannon’s reach. “I will look through this later. I suspect Sister Joan will be knocking on my door at any moment to tell you she has prepared you a chamber. As my niece, you’ll be allotted a small room to yourself, so at least you won’t be sharing one of the guest-halls – and that will be a great relief to both of us. It means you’ll not have to be on your guard all the time.”
Shannon reached across the table and made a grab at the bag Hildegarde had moved. “I need the stuff in there. I won’t unpack it; I’ll keep it hidden, but it’s my stuff.” She held it tightly. “I’ll make sure no one sees it.”
At that moment, there was a tap on the door, and a dumpy little nun poked her head in. Hildegarde gave up temporarily. Rohese needn’t think she had won though.
; CHAPTER FIVE
Hildegarde left Shannon – no, she must think of her as Rohese, if her tongue was not to betray her – safely bestowed in a small room in the guest-house with her injured foot and ankle being tended and strapped by Etheldreda. Giving strict instructions for Rohese not to even attempt to cross the threshold but to wait until Hildegarde could return, the Abbess sent Sister Matilda to find Sister Ursel and returned to her own chamber, grateful the position of Abbess afforded her some privacy. At this moment, she longed for nothing more than to cast off her veil and wimple and thrust her fingers through her cropped hair to massage away the tension in her scalp. Ursel would bring her an infusion of willow bark and some lavender unguent for her temples.
She picked through the bag she had confiscated from Rohese. That girl! For all she knew her twelfth century history far better than had her mother, she lacked Marion’s native caution. Marion had known to think before she spoke, had known the items she carried were best kept hidden; Hildegarde had no such confidence in Rohese. If Marion had known she would end up here, Hildegarde believed she would not have taken the risks Rohese had.
She pulled the items from the bag. Soap, deodorant – a spray can, no less! Face cream, a tube of lip balm, toothbrush, toothpaste, – really! These things Marion would either have known to accept substitutes for or acknowledge she must go without. Not Rohese. Prising her possessions from her had been a battle, and as for this…this phone thing! What had Rohese called it? A mobile? She turned it over in her hand, accidentally pressing something, and dropped it as it lit up and that awful racket jangled from it again.
Fumbling urgently, she tried to find whatever it was she had pressed before. Ah, a small catch on the side. The phone turned itself off with another jangle of ‘music’ which grated on her raw nerves.
Hildegarde was thankful she’d left instructions not to be disturbed by anyone other than Ursel; thankful also for the thick stone walls and solid oak door which, she hoped, had muffled that dreadful cacophony. She picked the mobile up gingerly, being careful not to touch the side again, and, stowing it in a casket along with the other things she had culled from the protesting Rohese, she continued to look through the bag. Bottles of paracetamol, ibuprofen and aspirin. Oh!
A Promise to Keep (Out of Time Book 2) Page 4