Hildegarde felt no compunction about helping herself to the aspirin. Since Rohese had given her a headache the like of which she hadn't had in years, it seemed fitting she should also provide the cure. She swallowed them with a small sip of well-water from the flagon on her desk.
Now, what else had that foolish girl brought with her apart from her adrenaline pen, which she would need to keep hidden about her person? At least Hildegarde had approved of the small pouch Rohese had made and strapped to her leg so she could reach it quickly in case of need.
Continuing to sift through what appeared to be half the contents of a chemist shop, she smiled. The girl had a good heart. They had herbal substitutes for many of these but by no means all, and it was kind of her to bring things she thought would be useful. And then, Hildegarde breathed a sigh of delight; Marion had not forgotten the tea. A cup of tea and an aspirin – the two things she craved most and expected least.
She tumbled the other things into the casket and locked it with one of the keys which hung from a chain on the belt she wore. Then, she put the casket into a coffer and locked that. Later, she could hide them securely in the secret cell, the door to which was now concealed behind a wall hanging, but they would be safe enough here for the present.
Knuckling her aching eyes and rubbing her forehead, she left her chamber with a twist of tea-leaves in a scrap of linen, locking the door behind her. She made her way to the kitchens, where her sudden appearance so startled the sisters there that one of the novices dropped a dish which shattered loudly on the stone flags, making Hildegarde wince.
She gave the flustered sisters a warm smile and knelt to help them pick up the broken pieces, despite their protestations. “For it was my fault for alarming Sister Euphemia so.” Then, she asked if she might have a cup of freshly boiled water and a little milk.
They bustled and clucked around her, delighted to serve, exclaiming at her wan face and generally behaving like a coop of hens with all their anxious fussing, which only served to further increase the throb in her temples. At last, the cup of water was handed to her, and she tipped a small amount of milk into it along with the surreptitiously added tea-leaves.
Hildegarde left the kitchens thankfully, unable to bear their fluttering for another second. She groped her way back, half blinded with pain by now, and sank onto the settle, watching the liquid take on the colour and fragrance she loved so much. Then, closing her eyes, she sipped thankfully at the scalding brew. A shame it could not be strained, but the sediment had mostly settled in the bottom of the cup anyway.
The tea was heavenly. Drinking it slowly, savouring the flavour, she felt the tension leave her scalp.
Resisting the temptation to drain it to the dregs, she opened her eyes and placed the cup carefully on the floor then, leaning her head against the wall hanging, shut her eyes again and waited for the pain to recede, drifting into a light doze.
A tap on the door made her jerk sharply to wakefulness as Sister Ursel’s wrinkled, rosy face appeared, hazel eyes watching her with concern. She tendered her nostrum to Hildegarde who shook her head. “It seems my young visitor has a satchel full of remedies from her own time. My headache is easing, Sister, dear. My thanks anyway.”
Ursel picked up the discarded cup of tea and sniffed at the liquid that remained. “An enterprising young lady, your niece, Mother.” Her old eyes twinkled shrewdly. “But then, she isn’t your niece, is she? Would I be wrong in thinking she is Marion’s daughter? There is a certain likeness.” Hildegarde’s eyes widened. “Fear not, my lady, that chattering tongue of hers has not given her away.” She paused. “Yet! I left her in her chamber with Etheldreda to guard her; although, Lady Isabella seems determined to while away some time with her. They are of an age, I think, and the lass seems in need of friends.”
“Isabella is a little older. Rohese – her real name is Shannon, by the way – although she has wider knowledge than the young women of our time, seems much more of a child. In her time, young women are a law unto themselves. They are also taught to believe they can do anything they set their minds to.
“When I was of their world, Ursel, I thought it to be a good thing; here, it becomes less of a blessing, for her behaviour makes her seem little more than a spoilt child. It’s strange, for I felt Marion worried less about this chick than her older one. I had the impression Rohese was the sensible one.”
Ursel nodded. “Ah, but she’s been betrayed by someone dear to her, I suspect. There’s nothing like a humiliation to put a stumbling block in the way of the most sensible girl. And, mayhap, her wits flew out of the door when disappointment flew in. The two together may cause the most unlikely of lasses to commit indiscretions.”
Hildegarde patted the hand that reached for her own. “You’re very wise, Sister. What should I ever do without you?”
Ursel grimaced. “Tush! You’d manage. Happen you’ll have to soon enough. I’m getting no younger, as these aching bones remind me often.”
Hildegarde was immediately contrite. Ursel, interpreting her dipped head correctly, said with some asperity, “And don’t you be looking like that, my lady; it’s not the walking, for I can still manage that well enough.”
Hildegarde regarded Ursel, her expression rueful. “Yes, indeed, but the constant standing and kneeling when we are at worship does you no good, Sister. I have seen your pain, which is why I gave you dispensation to be seated, though still you refuse to refrain. I think you are as wilful as our young visitor. In future, I do not merely give you dispensation – I command you to seat yourself during worship, and I forbid you to kneel.”
Ursel opened her mouth to protest. Hildegarde forestalled her. “No, Sister Ursel, I will hear no more on this matter. If you do not wish to cripple yourself, you will do as I say.”
A martial light flared briefly in Ursel’s eyes, but the obedience of a lifetime won. She bowed her head, murmuring, “Yes, Mother Abbess.”
Hildegarde smiled. “It’s for your own good, Sister, and for the good of our house, for we still have great need of you.”
Ursel said nothing; the sniff she gave conveyed volumes.
Hildegarde got to her feet. “I suppose I had best get back to this ‘niece’ of mine. I had thought to insist she accompanies me to Divine Office as often as is possible. That will keep her out of mischief. Unfortunately, I suspect she requires more instruction than our youngest novice if she is not to instantly give rise to suspicion. Now, is Magda in the laundry today?”
Ursel nodded. Most of the work here was done by the nuns and lay brethren, but villagers were also employed. Some laboured in the fields, some were tenant farmers, and some worked in other areas. Magda, the abbey laundress, was a bustling woman of middle age with a stout frame and brawny arms. Hildegarde found her a most useful person. She had a sensible attitude, and, more importantly, Hildegarde judged her able to keep a still tongue. She did not gossip. Abbey business did not get bandied about the village by Magda.
“Then, I must speak with her. I must get the girl a few items and some fabric. Magda can procure what I need. Rohese will need a couple of lengths of silk for veils. I may purchase one length of fine linen for her also.” As Ursel raised her brows, Hildegarde sighed softly. “I know, Sister; however, I find I am unable to resist her the small indulgence of silk. For two veils, such a little amount would be needed, and I’ve not had the chance to be an aunt for many a year. It’s certain, too, I never shall again. I fear I am also indulging myself.” She gave Ursel an almost pleading look. Ursel smiled and patted her hand.
“And I’m afraid, dear Ursel, the coins used in her time would not be recognised here, so she cannot pay for her keep either; however, she has brought us some food and medical supplies, so we shall call that recompense. Now, what think you? Shall some of our sisters enjoy helping her to stitch?”
Ursel laughed. “Mother Abbess, I think there will be a glut of helpers. It’s a long time since any of them have dealt with anything more fancy than altar cloths and em
broidery. Most will enjoy a vicarious pleasure in clothing your niece. Indeed, you may struggle to control their excitement.”
“Well and good then. As for that wimple she wears!” She threw her hands up. “It’s an unnecessary restriction for an unmarried young woman, barring our sisters, of course. To be honest,” she paused, giving Ursel a speculative glance, “I strongly suspect the Queen’s attachment to her own wimples increased as age began to catch up with her. She was a great beauty, so I understand, and it must be hard to watch yourself fade into old age.” She laughed. “That’s one problem we do not have to concern ourselves with, Sister. Never having been a beauty myself, even if I were not a nun, a wimple more or less would make no difference.”
Ursel merely gazed at her, a muscle twitching in her jaw the only indication she was swallowing a grin. Mother Abbess had no idea that the serene lines of her face coupled with that aristocratic nose and high cheekbones gave her an austere beauty all her own. The light shining from those untroubled grey eyes only enhanced the overall effect. At times, she appeared almost saintly.
Hildegarde bent to pick up Shannon’s bag, but suddenly jerked upright, one hand flying to her mouth. Ursel looked at her quizzically. “Mother Abbess?”
“Oh, Ursel, in all the confusion of Rohese’s arrival, I forgot something of great import. You’ll excuse me, Sister. I have need to speak to her most urgently. Pray send Magda to me here; I shall return shortly.”
Leaving Ursel, Hildegarde’s feet almost flew through the cloisters. Rohese had arrived with Giles and Isabella. Marion had told her of their relationship, but had she explained that Giles was also an ancestor? This visit was testing all her inner resources.
CHAPTER SIX
As Sister Etheldreda tutted over her ankle, removing the veil with which Shannon had bound it, anointing it with salve and binding it again, Shannon was thinking. What had Hildegarde called Isabella’s husband?
“Is that too tight, Mistress?” Etheldreda looked up from her kneeling position, disturbing her thoughts.
“No, that’s fine, thank you.”
The nun’s forehead crinkled. “Fine?”
“Sorry, I mean comfortable. Fine is an expression we use in Bolohovenia.”
“Is it far away, this Bolohovenia?”
“Many, many miles.”
“And yet, apart from a few strange words, you speak as we do. You have no accent.” The nun must have suddenly realised she was showing an unseemly curiosity for she dipped her head. “I’m sorry, my lady, it’s none of my business.”
“That’s true.”
Etheldreda looked mortified; Shannon hastily corrected herself. “Oh, not that, I don’t mind you asking. Sorry. I meant that I have no accent.” What was she speaking now? She had no idea, still she must be doing it right or no one would have understood her. How weird; she felt as though she was speaking English, just with some odd turns of phrase. Mum had said the same thing. Your language must adjust when you go through the tree.
Etheldreda was standing now, gazing at her with undisguised curiosity. Shannon met her eyes, and she flushed. “Forgive me, Mistress, for a moment you appeared familiar to me.”
Shannon coughed to hide her confusion, and Etheldreda turned her attention to the bag.
“Do you wish me to help you?”
“Please.”
The nun unpacked her bag, shaking the creases from Shannon’s gowns, smoothing them and hanging them on poles in the corner of the room. “Mistress, I’ll leave you to rest now.” She bobbed her head and turned, closing the door behind her, and Shannon was left to her own thoughts.
At first, she passed the time by studying her surroundings. The novelty soon wore off though, and she found herself longing for her mobile, her music, or at least something to read.
She put experimental pressure on her ankle. It hurt, but she could bear it, so she stood up, leaning heavily on the stick she had brought with her, and hobbled to one of the narrow windows which looked out onto a garden and a boundary wall. The glass, if it was glass, was distorted and so thick in places as to be almost opaque but, leaning against the stone sill for support, she could just make out a small pond with some ducks going about their business.
Their antics amused her at first, though they palled after a while and her ankle started aching again, so she limped back to her chair and propped her foot on a low stool. Of all the things she’d expected, boredom was not on the list. If only there was something to do.
Just as she was beginning to feel the urge to scream, shout, sing – anything to break the tedium, the door opened and Hildegarde entered, followed by another nun bearing a flagon and cups.
Shannon’s eyes lit up. Thank goodness! The nun put the flagon down on the small table next to Shannon’s chair then, as Shannon thanked her, raised her eyes shyly, smiled and left the room. Hildegarde pulled up another stool and sat, pouring Shannon a cup of wine from the flagon.
“It’s watered, Rohese. I suspect you aren’t used to much alcohol at this time of day.”
Well, she’d had a few moments, but overindulgence here would hardly be wise. Besides, she hated hangovers. A few heavy sessions had more or less cured her of that.
“Child, how does your ankle now?”
She grimaced, feeling anew the throb as she considered. Thinking about it made it worse.
“It aches, though it feels better than it did. I don’t notice it so much when I’m talking, but oh, Auntie H…I mean Aunt, I’m so bored.”
Hildegarde looked sympathetic, but Shannon felt as though she was trying to hide amusement.
“Poor Rohese. It’s not quite as you expected, is it?”
“You can say that again. I thought it would be a bit more fun.”
“My dear, this is an abbey. What did you expect to find? Here, though the rule is more relaxed than many, we are still nuns; we go to Divine Service throughout the day.”
“Yes, but aren’t there supposed to be games and stuff going on over Whitsun? That’s what it said on the internet.”
“There are, it’s true; not here, though. The games are all in the village. We do not have them here, and even if it were our custom to attend them, you would find it uncomfortable to travel.”
Shannon’s face fell. “I hadn’t expected that to happen, had I? Trust me to hurt my ankle and get stuck in my room.” She put her head on one side with a winsome smile. “Aunt, couldn’t I have my mobile back, please? I could listen to the music with my earbuds, or at least, I could read.” While the battery lasts, she thought. And I’d better not tell Auntie that, or she’ll stress. I expect she thinks it has the sort of batteries that can be changed. She’s probably assumed I have spares somewhere.
Hildegarde was astonished. “Music? Read? You can do all this on your phone?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool when you think about it, isn’t it?”
“Very, er, cool. Though how would you explain it if someone should enter your chamber unexpectedly?”
“I could hide it in my lap. Or I could put my head under the sheets, so if they saw me, they’d think I was asleep.”
Shannon was sounding a little desperate; Hildegarde felt for her but couldn’t take the risk.
“I could say–”
“No, Rohese, you could not. I’m sorry, I know you’re bored. After we have eaten, the sisters take their midday rest period and then recreation. During that time, I will help you walk to the gardens, where you may sit awhile.”
“Could I borrow a book?”
“You could; however, I’m afraid, even if you could read it, which I think is improbable, we have nothing which would appeal to you.”
“But you have illuminated books, don’t you? I could just look at the pictures; it would be something to do.”
The note of desperation in her voice was becoming more strident, and Hildegarde capitulated. “Very well, later. For now, be still, my dear, and listen, for I have things I need to ask you.”
She took a sip from her own c
up then continued, “Rohese, what did your mother tell you about the time she spent with us? I need to know what you know.”
“She told me she’d helped save Prince John’s life.” Shannon’s eyes grew wide. “I thought she’d gone crazy.”
“As indeed you might,” Hildegarde murmured.
“He was really lucky though. I mean, sometimes the epinephrine just buys time to get to hospital. Anyway, he saw her, and she had a really bad time getting away. And then this Sir Giles–” She broke off, hand to her mouth.
“Yes, Rohese, this Sir Giles is the same one who pursued your mother.”
“Wow! She said Prince John threatened him if he didn’t get more epinephrine, so to save his life, she promised to get him a couple every year. And that’s why I came,” she said, nodding virtuously. “I didn’t want to let Mum and Sir Giles down.”
“Do not look so innocent, Rohese; I think we have already discussed the fact that your visit was not for his sake but your own.”
Shannon flushed deep crimson, and Hildegarde patted her hand. “Never mind, child; what’s done is done, and, I confess, it brings me great pleasure to get to know you.”
Pleasure yes, but Hildegarde’s trepidation, she felt, was not without reason. Shannon was not Marion; she possessed far less innate caution.
“And now, we come to the crux of the matter. Did your mother tell you Sir Giles is your ancestor?”
Shannon nodded. “Yes, she did. I can’t wait to tell him. I wonder what–”
Hildegarde’s blood ran cold as she interrupted. “Rohese, you may not tell him. I forbid it absolutely.”
“Forbid? Why?” Again, her mouth took on that mulish pout Hildegarde was beginning to dread. She straightened her spine, compressed her lips and prepared to do battle, but Shannon shrugged and said, “Oh well, I suppose it’s safer. The more who know, the more likely it is they’ll let something slip accidentally. It seems a shame for us never to meet as relatives, though.”
A Promise to Keep (Out of Time Book 2) Page 5