Hildegarde said a silent prayer of thanks. “Now child, I’ve brought your ibuprofen and paracetamol, but you will be drinking wine or ale often during the day, so save them until tonight. I think you’ll find you’ll be more aware of your ankle then, and they will help you sleep.” She drew out a small box made of leather with a painted lid.
Shannon looked enchanted. “Oh, isn’t that pretty? Thank you.”
“Now, dinner is shortly to be eaten. Normally, I would dine with you privately in my chambers or in the guest-refectory–”
Before she could finish speaking, Shannon’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I don’t mind where we dine. I just want to get out of this room.”
Hildegarde held up her hand for silence, and Shannon checked herself. Dear Lord, this girl is so impatient. Please grant me the tact to deal with her.
“Please, child, let me continue. I was going to say, but today, we feast. I must eat with my daughter nuns in the frater; it will be expected of me. Will you dine in our guest-refectory or would you rather eat here?” Lord, is it too much to ask that she will decide to remain here?
Shannon hesitated. Hildegarde was about to relax when she said, “Well, I guess I have to learn to mix with people sometime.” She grinned, and the Abbess felt her heart sink. “It may as well be today. If I get it wrong, we can just tell people there are different customs in Bolohovenia. Is it far to the refectory? Will I be able to hobble there? Where’s my stick?”
Hildegarde knew when she was beaten. She picked up Shannon’s stick and looked at it critically. “I’m sure we can find you something better than this but, for today, it will suffice. Now, prepare your mind. You are not Shannon; you are Rohese. Try for a little more composure and try,” oh, please let her remember, “try not to speak too much today. Listen and learn. I have brought you knife and spoon. Attach them to your girdle, so.”
“Oka…yes, Aunt.” Shannon eased herself up and leaned heavily on her stick. Hildegarde took her other arm, and she hobbled, wincing a little, to the door.
“Are you sure you can manage? We don’t want to damage that ankle further.”
“Yes, Aunt.”
“Very well. Come then.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
As they entered the refectory, Shannon gazed around her. There were rather more people than she’d expected. She hadn’t really considered eating here, thinking she’d be permitted to eat with the nuns. How would she manage alone? The idea was daunting, and Shannon was considering whether she should return to her room after all when a short, rotund monk caught sight of Hildegarde and came to greet her. “Abbess.” He bowed his head, then noticed Shannon, and his eyes widened.
“My niece. She is paying a most unexpected visit from Bolohovenia. Rohese, this is Father Dominic, our confessor.”
Father Dominic may have been a priest, but he was clearly not averse to the opposite sex. He gave Shannon a courtly bow. “Demoiselle Rohese, the pleasure is all mine. Abbess, I know you will be eating in the frater; perhaps you will allow me to accompany your niece at the table?”
Shannon looked questioningly at Hildegarde; there was no choice but to accept, and Hildegarde bestowed a gracious smile on the priest.
“Father, Rohese is yet to become familiar with our ways, so I trust you’ll be patient with her and bear with her prattle. I’m afraid she has also damaged her ankle, so haply you would be kind enough to assist her to a bench.” She transferred Shannon’s arm to him, as she spoke. “I leave her in your good hands.”
Turning to Shannon, she dropped a kiss on her forehead, murmuring “Rohese, do try to remember what I told you.” She lingered hesitantly for a moment before walking away, pausing again briefly at the door to turn back with a worried frown.
Shannon was on her own. She gripped the head of her stick, stomach tight with nerves as she waited for the priest to speak, then noticed, with relief, the twinkle in his eyes. “So, Demoiselle, I have you all to myself. I also have travelled somewhat but not, I regret to, er, where did you come from? You must tell me all about it.” He appeared rather proud of himself. “I enjoy so much to hear of foreign realms and customs.”
They were still standing, and at this point, Shannon wobbled slightly which recalled him to his duties, for he said, “My dear, your ankle is paining you?” She nodded pathetically – better to look pathetic; sympathy might be helpful – and he shepherded her across to the table at the top of the room, pulling out a bench and settling her, fussing like an old woman. Other people who looked to be poorer than Giles and his household were seated further down the hall.
She discovered that to be the little priest’s dining partner meant sharing a trencher and cup with him. It also meant him cutting up meat for her and selecting morsels from the serving platter. And how he talked! Thankfully, that meant she didn’t have to say much.
It seemed he was inordinately proud of his travels and pilgrimages, and, rather than hear about Bolohovenia and its customs, he was evidently delighted to expound every detail of every trip he had ever taken.
As the main courses were removed and honeyed fruits and custards brought in, he finally paused for breath, wiping his mouth on a linen napkin and dabbling his fingers in the bowl of scented water, before passing it to Shannon. “And now, my dear, you must tell me all about your own land. I confess, I had no idea our good Abbess had any relatives at all, let alone a niece.”
“I’m not exactly a niece, I suppose. More of a distant cousin; my family always speak of Cousin Hildegarde as our Aunt, though.” She dipped her head in what she hoped was a demure manner. “But you’ll be bored with my life soon enough. Please, Father, do continue your own tales; they are so fascinating.”
Father Dominic was not proof against the invitation to talk some more. Shannon barely had to speak for the rest of the meal to her great relief. At last, the dishes were all taken away, and he got up, stretching his short arms luxuriously. “Well, well, my dear, it has been most pleasant; however, I must leave you now. Duties to attend to, you know.” As he strutted away, Shannon started to give a huge sigh, then remembered where she was and caught herself up short, jumping as a hand touched her arm and a pair of sparkling eyes looked down at her.
“Lady Rohese, did you enjoy your speech with good Father Dominic?” Isabella’s muted laugh showed she was very well aware of how tedious the little priest could be.
“Oh, um, he’s very kind, but, er…”
“I know; I met him earlier. How does your ankle now? Giles has business to attend,” briefly, those soft eyes hardened, “and I would be so glad of your company. Should you like to sit outside for a while? It’s so pleasant to have sunshine at last after all those weeks of rain.” Then, as Shannon tried to struggle to her feet, she said, “Wait, I’ll fetch you help.” She moved gracefully across the hall and spoke to Adam, the young knight who had ridden before her earlier.
He glanced rather coolly at Isabella at first, Shannon thought then decided she had been mistaken as he bent to listen, nodded and came back across the hall.
“Demoiselle, may I assist you?” His smile was warm, and Shannon decided she must have imagined his earlier expression. She blushed and dipped her head. He was so handsome, she felt quite flustered for a moment.
Don’t be so stupid, she chided herself. Of course you don’t fancy him. You’re heartbroken, remember? But, maybe she wasn’t. Certainly, she hadn’t given a minute’s thought to Jackson once she had sobbed her heart out to Hildegarde. Anyway, nothing was going to come of it, so she saw no reason why she shouldn’t enjoy the moment. She dimpled up at him, and he took both hands, helping her to rise. Then, with one arm about her, he took her hand and helped her outside, Isabella at her other side.
Shannon managed to hobble across the herb garden a short way, then gasped with pain, her ankle throbbing. “Please, I’m sorry…I need…I can’t…” He looked down at her, saw her distress and swept her lightly off her feet. Despite the pain, Shannon almost laughed; this felt as unreal as some kind of ro
mantic novel. Chloe would be so jealous.
Clutching at his tunic, she was aware of a faint fragrance of rosemary and bay and breathed in, savouring the masculinity of it as he carried her past hedges and into another part of the garden. Depositing her gently on a bench beneath an apple tree, he said, “Here, Mistress, a fine place to sit,” before fetching a small wooden stool from against the cloister wall and placing it so she could rest her ankle, all the time watching her.
Oh, those eyes! She could not drop her gaze; they were hypnotic, with laughter lurking in their depths. He gave her a lazy smile before turning to Isabella. “My lady.”
Shannon thought his tone had cooled, and when Isabella replied, hers was almost frigid.
“Thank you, Adam. I’ll call you when Mistress Rohese has need of you.”
Then, she seated herself beside Shannon, her eyes alight with curiosity and an expression so friendly, Shannon decided she must have imagined the undercurrents of the last few moments.
“So, now we have a chance to become better acquainted.” She hesitated, frowning in concern. “Lady Rohese, you appear so wan; does your ankle hurt you much?”
Shannon nodded. The short hobble to the garden, until Adam had swept her off her feet, had been far more painful than she had expected, and now it ached so much, she felt a little nauseous. “It does, actually, Lady Isabella.”
Isabella placed one hand on her arm. “Need we be so formal? We seem to be of an age, please, call me Isabella.”
“And I’m just Rohese.”
They looked at each other, and Isabella’s face lit up again. That’s when Shannon realised who she reminded her of. She had the same colouring and face shape as Chloe. And that’s so weird, that I’m sitting here with my great, great, loads of greats, grandmother, and we’re the same age.
Isabella cut in on her thoughts. “Rohese, should you like me to fetch you something from the infirmary? I’m sure Sister Ursel has something to dull your pain; a poppy syrup, mayhap, or some willow bark infusion?”
Yuck! Opium or willow bark? She shuddered. No thanks. She would rather have ibuprofen. She hadn’t had much wine; surely, it would be okay. “I have an opiate from Bolohovenia in my chamber which I would prefer, but I can’t face walking just now. If I sit here for a while, I’m sure it will ease. It doesn’t hurt nearly so much when I talk – I suppose it stops me dwelling on it.”
“Then, by all means, let us talk. My husband is about his own business, I am alone and it will be pleasant to have your company.” Then, glancing shyly at Rohese, she said, “I confess, I am curious that you were on the road alone. You do not mind me asking why?”
And now, Shannon would find out whether her cover story would stand up to scrutiny. Isabella listened to her tale with eyes like saucers, uttering little squeaks of dismay as Shannon embellished her story, explaining how the messenger from her father had caught up with them half a mile from the abbey with the news that their castle was under siege, and how she, Rohese, had declared her intention to travel the last short distance alone, crossing her fingers that Isabella would believe her. Even to her own ears, it sounded rather thin. Still, fully committed now, she ploughed on.
“And so, I instructed my guards to return and do their duty to my father and his lands.” She jutted her chin imperiously, daring Isabella to challenge her. “It’s enough that my poor mother and half the household are so ill. My father’s need of the men was far greater than mine. The abbey was in sight; I thought to be safe enough.” She leaned forward and rubbed her ankle. “I hadn’t taken this accident into consideration. You can imagine how glad I was for your help.”
That was a much better tale if the look on Isabella’s face was anything to go by; plenty of time to update Aunt Hildegarde later. The pilgrimage idea was definitely out, how could she enjoy herself if she was meant to be on pilgrimage?
“But why did you not ride? How came you to be walking?”
Oh. She hadn’t thought of that. She cudgelled her brain. “Well, I was travelling in a litter, so I had no horse to ride. Anyway, I thought if I walked, it would be like a penance. You know, for being the one who is not ill. I thought God would see it as a prayer for my family.” She held her breath. Would Isabella swallow it? “It’s something we do in Bolohovenia.” Maybe that’ll side-track her.
It worked.
“Oh, Rohese, is your family expected to recover?”
Improvising again, Shannon said, “The messengers from my father said they are weak though likely to survive.” She mopped her eyes and sniffed, the better to add colour to the fiction. “He instructed me to remain here for the nonce. Enough that my mother, sister and brothers are ill. He doesn’t wish to have me endangered, since, thus far, I have escaped.”
“But, Rohese, you did not know we have spotted fever here also?”
“Yes, but not as badly as my poor country, Isabella. There, it scours us like a plague. Thousands have died. Aunt Hildegarde says there are no new cases here at present.” And fingers crossed it stayed the same. How ironic it would be if, after all her ingenuity, she fell victim to the very disease she had concocted to explain her presence here.
Still, she reflected, I’m sure if I did, Auntie Hildegarde would get me home somehow. I expect they can treat it at hospital; it’s not as though I’ll have to die here. Surreptitiously, she rapped on the trunk of the tree beside which she sat. Touch wood.
Isabella patted her hand. “I will pray your family recovers and your father prevails. It must be such a comfort to have your aunt’s prayers and those of the sisters.”
Wait a minute. If she appeared too sad, Shannon decided, she wasn’t going to get any fun out of this visit. She stopped dabbing at her eyes and raised her head, saying with confidence, “Oh yes, indeed. And, to tell truth, I am not at all worried. My father will prevail, and I am certain my family will recover. In many ways, I should rather be with them, but they insisted, and since I am here,” she paused and allowed herself to smile again, “I wish to enjoy myself. I have never travelled alone before, and it’s rather invigorating.” There, that should do it.
Isabella opened her mouth as though there was something she wanted to ask, then shut it again.
Shannon gave her a quizzical look. “Were you going to say something?”
“I, er, no.”
“Yes, you were. What was it?”
“You’ll think me rude.”
“No, I won’t. Go on, say it.” Better have it straight out than for Isabella to be speculating.
“Forgive me, I was just wondering – you are not married? You wear no ring on your heart finger. Have you no husband back in Bolo…Bolovenah, no…” She paused, furrowing her brow in concentration before saying with an air of triumph, “Bolohovenia!”
Shannon resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. “No, in my country we do not wed so young as here. It’s thought better to allow us time to grow. Sixteen is the earliest we can marry, and my parents wish me to wait a little longer yet.” Well, that was true enough.
Isabella leaned forward, hands clasped, eyes filled with longing. “Oh, how I wish I lived there.”
Shannon was taken aback. “But you love Sir Giles, don’t you?”
Isabella veiled her eyes with her lashes. “Er, yes, of course. He is a good husband to me.”
Good? Is that all?
“And, indeed, he is not so difficult to love,” she whispered, a flush spreading over her cheeks.
As her meaning sunk in, Shannon felt her own cheeks burning. Whoa! We’re discussing my ancestors’ love lives. Too much information! But Isabella didn’t feel like an ancestor, just a friend.
“My first husband, though, was an ill-tempered man.” The flush died away; Isabella’s eyes hardened and her lips compressed. “I was wed to him at fourteen, and I hated him; when he died, I was glad. And as for that witch of a mother of his, when she had a seizure after his death and died too, I did not mourn her, either. I behaved as though I did, but inside, I was dancing.” She
stared at Shannon as though challenging her. “And if that is a sin, then I am not sorry for it, for I tell you, I rejoiced to be free.”
The fire died out of her eyes to be replaced by a look of horror. One hand flew to her lips, as though she couldn’t believe what she had said, and she gazed at Shannon with desperation, before glancing around fearfully, clasping both hands before her as though in prayer. “Lady Rohese, please, oh please, forget I said that. Please, don’t tell anyone. You see, I was so young, and he was not kind.”
Shannon’s eyes misted over. Poor Isabella. She reached for the hands that were gripping each other convulsively and covered them with both of her own. “Oh, I won’t, I won’t, I promise. Oh, Isabella, don’t be so scared. You can trust me.” Then she reddened, remembering the lies of just a few moments ago. But that’s different, she told herself. I had to do that. And I’d never break Isabella’s confidence. It’s not the same.
For a few minutes, they sat there, and Isabella’s terrified expression started to fade. Shannon said nothing; she didn’t know what to say. She knew about child brides; it still happened in 2012, of course it did, but not in Britain, so she’d never seen the horror first hand. Thinking about it now, she felt sick.
Isabella broke the silence first. She got up, holding her hand out to Shannon. “Forgive me, I forgot myself. Now, is your ankle still hurting? Should you like to return to your chamber and rest, or would you rather stay here? I must go; I have things to attend to. My lord will return soon.” She frowned. “At least I think he will, and I must make our chamber ready for him.” And it was as though the previous conversation had never happened.
Shannon understood. Isabella wanted to forget again, to shut it away and return to normal. In fact, she also needed a short time to herself to come to terms with what she’d just heard. ”No, thank you, I’d like to sit here a while longer. You go.”
A Promise to Keep (Out of Time Book 2) Page 6