The gaunt look on his face was unnerving. ‘Yes. Soon after I returned from fighting in France I fell in love with a beautiful lady, the only child of the lord whose castle I was a guest in at the time. She was terribly proud and disdainful, believing that no man alive was good enough for her. She saw this as no sin, for she prided herself on her cold-heartedness. She loved nothing more than to have a brave knight grovelling helplessly at her feet. I was enthralled by her from the moment I first set eyes on her, but she would not accept my love. The more deeds of valour and knightly prowess I did in her honour, the more she mocked me. She had many noble knights under her spell. First she would allow one suitor to be at her side and bask in her smiles and kisses, and then she would cast him off like a worn shoe and move onto another, leaving her other would-be lovers filled with agonizing jealousy as she indulged her latest favourite.’
Rowena listened with rapt attention, uneasy about where the chilling tale would end.
‘It was hell,’ he continued grimly. ‘But then I found out she was spying for the French. Well—you know what happened. But then…’
‘Yes, do carry on,’ she prompted breathlessly, gripping the folds of his leather doublet tightly to keep her hands from shaking.
He swallowed hard and looked down at the floor. ‘What I did not tell you before is that when she broke her promise to be faithful to me in return, I—’ He swallowed hard. ‘I told her that if she would not be faithful, I would betray her to the English. She just laughed in my face. I was so angry. I just wanted to punish her, make her taste the pain she bestowed so plentifully on me.’
‘But you did not actually kill this lady yourself?’
He lifted his deathly pale face. ‘No, I did not wield the executioner’s axe with my own hands. But I might as well have done!’ His head fell back onto his arms. ‘The guilt, it is a filthy stain on my soul which, no matter how hard I try, I can never wash off. It is a devil that gnaws at me relentlessly day and night!’
‘Did you know that they would execute her?’ she asked cautiously, almost too afraid of what his answer might be.
‘Yes—no, I don’t know!’
‘Surely you only meant to teach her not to toy with you?’
With a quivering hand, Sir Richard pushed back the curtain of black hair which had fallen over his face. ‘I was so hurt and angry...I really don’t know what I was thinking. But you are right; I did not wish to have her killed, just punished. How foolish to think that they would not kill her because she was from a noble family!’
He turned to Rowena with a wild desperation she had never seen in his eyes before. ‘I am the one who caused her death. She haunts me!’ Fingernails dug into flashy palm with a violence that threatened to draw blood. ‘At night when I lie there in the dark silence, sleep does not come. Instead, I am visited nightly by visions of her that arise torturously before my guilty soul. Visions of her in her muddied white shift, almost mad with fear at the fate she awaited in her prison cell that chill, grey dawn. Oh, she was not proud, disdainful Lady Morgana anymore.’
His trembling lips thinned to a hard, bitter line of pain. ‘She begged me, begged me, to find a way of saving her. She grovelled and pleaded and cried on her knees before me. I told her captors I had been wrong, that she was not a spy; but it was useless. They had searched her rooms and found incriminating letters. She would not listen when I told her that there was nothing I could do to save her now. Still she begged to live…’ Staring into space with hollow eyes, he rubbed his forehead with a shaking hand, if trying to erase the memory from his mind. ‘I meant to punish her, but the pathetic shadow I succeeded in reducing her to gave me no pleasure! If I had not seen her with my own eyes, I would not have believed it to be possible. There was not one shred of human dignity left in her. Even her stony-eyed jailer was embarrassed to look upon her. If ever someone faced death with fear, it was her…’
‘What you did was terrible, but you acted in the heat of the moment,’ Rowena tried to comfort him. ‘You did not mean to cause her death—’
‘I desecrate a place like this by daring to enter with my polluted soul!’ he suddenly cried. ‘My heart is black with evil. I am not worthy; I must leave here—’
He made to rise again, but she clung to him. ‘The good shepherd rejoices more when the one lost sheep returns to the fold than at all the other sheep. I beg you, do not lose faith in the mercy of God.’
He suddenly went very still. ‘This darkness—I wish I could cut it from me…’
The glint of steel in his hand caught her eye. ‘No, Sir Richard, put the dagger away!’
He clutched the naked blade between his trembling hands. ‘Cut it from me…’ His low, harsh whisper was barely audible as a trickle of blood ran out from between his hands and dripped onto the white skirt of Rowena’s gown.
With detached interest he watched the bright red stain spread as it soaked into the fabric.
She clasped his hands between her own. ‘Please stop.’ Tears stung her eyes as she felt his warm blood seeping between her fingers. ‘You must forgive yourself. Please, I’m begging you, let the blade go!’
After an excruciating few moments, he loosened his grip and let the blade fall onto the flagstones below with a clatter. His dark eyes, full of grief and longing, met hers. ‘How can I cut my heart of darkness from me?’
She quickly took out her handkerchief and bound it around his bleeding palm. ‘If the budding stem scorns the light and reaches instead for dank, mouldy places, it pales, withers, and is eaten up by foul canker and worm. You cannot cut your evils and failings from you, but you can transform them into something beautiful and good if you will but reach for the light.’
He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Is there anything you do not have a ready answer for?’
She smiled. ‘No. I’m like the legendary Sybil at the oracle in ancient Delphi, and if any wise words I tell turn out not to be true, it is because you interpreted it all wrong.’
He weakly returned her smile. ‘And you certainly never run out of witticisms.’ He bent down, picked his dagger off the floor and put it back in its scabbard. ‘I’m sorry for frightening you like that. I don’t know what came over me—oh no, your gown!’ He suddenly seemed to notice what had happened. ‘I’ve bled all over you. Hell, I’m sorry.’
She waved his concern aside, too relieved he had decided not hurt himself further to care. ‘It’s no matter. This gown has seen better days. One more stain is going to make little difference.’
He passed her his handkerchief. ‘Here, as you have given me yours, you can use mine to mop up the worst of the blood.’
‘Thank you.’ She took it and dabbed half-heartedly at the bright red stain, which had now spread to the size of her hand.
This job was taking a heavy toll on her wardrobe. If her aunt thought she looked like a wild gypsy maid before, now that her niece was the sheriff’s clerk, she thought she looked like a beggar-child. Rowena sighed. Never mind…
Already looking surprisingly calm, Sir Richard got to his feet. ‘I have detained you here long enough. Shall we go?’
She passed him back his handkerchief and nodded. ‘You don’t have to escort me to and from the castle yourself all the time, you know. I know how busy you are. I’m sure one of your soldiers could do it sometimes. And furthermore, I have no intention of having any more nocturnal adventures in the forest.’
He offered her his arm. ‘No, it’s fine. I like escorting you home.’
She tucked her hand underneath the offered arm and leaned into Sir Richard as they walked down the aisle towards the door. The silence between sheriff and clerk was as golden as the just-emerged sun after a tempest’s passing.
But the peace did not last long. A few minutes later, the sheriff was to be found facing a new problem.
‘What are you going to do about it, young man? I demand an answer!’ shouted the new problem.
Sir Richard retreated back a step, but Abbess Hawisa kept pace with him, her large fing
er, strong and stout as the rest of her, still jabbing at his chest, glowering face still thrust in his.
‘Well, I—’
‘Come on young man, spit it out!’ the abbess of the Holy Convent of the Martyrdom of St Agnes commanded him.
He stood his ground this time. Although Abbess Hawisa was a tall woman, her height did not match the towering knight’s, and he took full advantage of it to glare grimly down at her. ‘If I may, I would like to speak to the nun who reported these lurking men watching her,’ he replied, much more firmly this time in order to subdue the abbess, who was ready to go in for the kill the moment she caught a whiff of weakness.
She put her hands on her broad hips and looked him up and down disapprovingly. ‘This is a closed order. The sisters here do not have any contact with the outside world. Especially not with men,’ she added with a distasteful sniff. ‘But as it is of such grave importance, I will allow you to speak with Sister Alice briefly, in my presence.’
‘Thank you, abbess. And do you know how long ago it was that Sister Alice saw these men?’ he asked, in the most tactful and professional manner he could muster.
‘Sister Alice usually goes down to the spring to draw up water at half-seven in the evening, to clean the dairy when she has finished the milking. It must have been around then.’ Abbess Hawisa moved off the front step of the church, where she had accosted the sheriff as he and Rowena were exiting. ‘Come!’ she barked, leading the way towards the convent’s main building.
The sheriff moved off with her, closely followed by Rowena.
The abbess entered the door leading into the cloister. ‘We at St Agnes’ have of course heard the dreadful tales of young girls being carried off never to be seen again. Sister Alice’s nerves have always been weak, and the tales played on her mind terribly. I must warn you that the poor child is still in a dreadful state of shock.’
The sheriff and his young clerk were led along a cool, echoing cloister which faced onto a courtyard garden.
Abbess Hawisa stopped in front of the closed door right at the far end. ‘If you would kindly wait outside, child,’ she ordered Rowena, but then suddenly her eyes narrowed. ‘What is that all over your dress?’
Rowena cringed under the abbess’s fierce, disapproving look. ‘It’s—it’s, ahem, blood.’
‘And what is it doing smeared all down your front? Did you murder someone on your way here?’
The interrogative and bitingly sarcastic older woman made Rowena feel like a bad child who had just done something unspeakable. For once she wished she was even smaller, so small that she could crawl under a stone and hide. She swallowed hard ‘It’s n-not mine. Sir Richard cut himself and some of the blood spilt onto me.’
Abbess Hawisa, who already stood uncomfortably close to Rowena, moved even closer. ‘And what were you doing standing so close to him?’
‘I—I—’ squirmed Rowena, as she tried unsuccessfully to come up with something more suitable than ‘the sheriff of Chaucy bled all over me while I was trying to talk him out of cutting himself in your church’.
Much to her relief, Sir Richard decided to come to her aid. ‘I’m afraid it was my fault.’ He produced the wounded hand. ‘She was binding her handkerchief around the wound on my hand, and we did not realize I was bleeding so much.’
‘Hmmm.’ The Abbess gave another one of her disapproving sniffs, but it seemed she could find no further impropriety to pick on.
Sir Richard paused before the cell door the Abbess held open for him. ‘I wish Rowena to be present when I’m speaking with this nun.’
Abbess Hawisa did not look pleased by the request, but gave a reluctant grunt of assent anyway.
Once the abbess and Sir Richard had passed into the cell, Rowena followed. Seated on the tiny cell’s equally tiny bed was a hysterical nun who looked about twenty, and offering words of comfort and a shoulder to cry on was another nun, this one of about twice her years.
The abbess motioned at the frail, pale-faced younger woman. ‘This is Sister Alice, who saw the lurking villains.’ Then she indicated the other nun. ‘And this is Sister Elfreda, who did not see the lurking villains.’
Sister Alice lifted her head from Sister Elfreda’s shoulder, looked at her visitors and let out a little scream. ‘No, no I can’t—make them go away, Sister Elfreda!’
‘Don’t be afraid, sister,’ said Sir Richard. ‘I only want a little information.’
But Sister Alice only clung more tightly to her companion. ‘Make them go away, I beg you!’
Feeling that the tiny cell was overcrowded enough without her adding to the problem, Rowena stayed back and observed from the doorway.
Sir Richard carefully seated himself next to the terrified young nun and gave her his most reassuring smile. ‘Calm yourself, madam. I’m not going to hurt you. I merely wish to hear your story.’
This seemed to have the desired effect. Sister Alice went quiet and studied the intimidating intruder shyly, before seeming to decide he did not sound as frightening as he looked. She nodded timidly.
‘So tell me, what happened?’
She took a moment to pluck up the courage to speak, but after an encouraging nod from Sister Elfreda, she began. ‘I was going down to the spring to fetch water at about half past seven, when I caught a glimpse of something moving in the trees near the path.’ Her soft, girlish voice was almost a whisper. ‘I thought it was a deer, so carried on to the spring and filled my pail. But when I was coming back…’
‘You are doing very well, sister. Please continue.’
Sister Alice wiped her tearful eyes with the corner of her veil. ‘When I passed that place, I saw it again. I looked more carefully this time and…I thought I could make out a cloaked figure with a cloth tied around his face—and I was so afraid!’ The tears started to flow again. ‘But don’t they always say not to panic and run if you think a dog is about to attack? So I just kept walking!’ Her words ended abruptly as she started sobbing hysterically.
Sir Richard cleared his throat uncomfortably and shoved back his hair. Hysterical nuns were clearly one area where he felt out of his depth. He looked helplessly at Rowena, but she had nothing to offer besides a sympathetic shrug.
‘Sister, there’s no need to be afraid. You are safe now,’ he said rather awkwardly, and placed a comforting hand on her arm.
Sister Alice shrieked in fright and shrunk away from him the instant he touched her.
He snatched back his hand as though he had burnt it.
‘Do not touch!’ the abbess bellowed at the sheriff, advancing on him.
For a moment, Rowena thought Abbess Hawisa was going to slap Sir Richard, but instead she stopped less than a half-foot from him and wagged her finger violently in his face. ‘Kindly keep your hands to yourself, young man!’
Meeting Abbess Hawisa’s furious look with a stony, thin-lipped scowl of his own, Sir Richard slowly rose up to his full height and, without removing his unblinking glare from her eyes for a moment, he closed his hand around the offending finger. ‘And I would appreciate it, madam, if you would keep your hands to yourself.’
Rowena thought she heard a titter from Sister Elfreda, but it quickly turned into a cough.
The abbess blinked up at the towering, darkly menacing knight in astonishment. Her lips moved, but no words came out. After a few moments, she gave up and stared at him in silence.
Sir Richard moved the abbess’s finger down to her side and released it. ‘Very good.’ He gave her a frosty smile. ‘I think we will get on much better now that that little misunderstanding has been resolved. So,’ he addressed everyone in the cell this time, ‘who would be so kind as to show Rowena and I where this suspicious figure lurked?’
‘I will gladly lead you there,’ said Sister Elfreda.
He gave a gracious nod and gestured towards the door. ‘Excellent. Please lead the way, sister.’
.13.
Sir Richard has a Brush with Vice, Virtue and a Cooking Pot
ONCE
outside, Sister Elfreda led the two visitors along a gravel path that snaked towards the vegetable plot, then skirted around it before ending at the door of a lean-to at the cloister’s back wall. The path was bordered on both sides by a neatly clipped lavender hedge that released wafts of warm, soporific fragrance as the women’s skirts brushed past it.
Upon reaching the end of the gravel path, Sister Elfreda stopped. ‘Here is the dairy. The spring is down the path at the bottom of this meadow.’
The tall nun then moved off along a faint path leading through the tall meadow grasses. Dotted everywhere were bright yellow buttercups, golden dandelions and red, silky-petaled field poppies that hovered like butterflies above the thick summer pasture. Once she had put some distance between herself and the cloister, Sister Elfreda slowed a little to allow Sir Richard and Rowena to come alongside her.
Rowena was now able to study their guide’s face properly for the first time. The nun had a refined, even-featured face with a thin, straight nose and a noble forehead. Her expression bore the serenity of the moon in the midnight sky and her dove-grey eyes shone with the mysterious, faraway light of the morning star.
The observer’s verdict was most favourable. Sister Elfreda made a truly admirable nun, being a lady who looked as though her mind was in Heaven even while her body dwelt on earth.
‘I am sorry about Abbess Hawisa’s behaviour towards you both earlier,’ said Sister Elfreda, frowning slightly. ‘Unfortunately, she tends to be a little territorial and controlling. I do hope you were not too offended.’
‘You get used to dealing with difficult characters in my line of work,’ Sir Richard replied brusquely.
The nun put a friendly hand on Rowena’s arm. ‘I am especially sorry to you, sister. I know how uncomfortable our abbess made you.’
Rowena tried to look as unconcerned as possible, not wishing to hurt Sister Elfreda’s feelings as she was being so kind and helpful. ‘It’s alright, I really didn’t mind,’ she lied.
‘And as soon as she gets home she is going to make a straw effigy of the abbess and stick pins in it…’ Sir Richard added smoothly.
The Heart of Darkness Page 20