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The Devil's Priest

Page 4

by Kate Ellis


  "If I were you, my friend, I should keep hidden. If the constables..." He stepped forward, offering the coin. "Buy yourself a bed for the night and a hot meal and take this with God's blessing. Do you come from Norton, my friend?"

  There was no answer. Valentine placed the coin in the outstretched left hand, avoiding the temptation to hold his nose against the stench of unwashed clothes and urine. The beggar's heavy fleece-lined black cloak fell open as he muttered his thanks then he quickly gathered the folds together before he turned and hurried away. It was dark and the cloak had only fallen open for a second, but Valentine had noted in that brief moment that the beggar’s right hand was missing.

  CHAPTER 3

  Agnes had been asleep when Mistress Marjory had taken Katheryn up to her chamber the previous evening. Marjory had been all for waking her, but Katheryn begged her to let the child sleep: she had been through an ordeal and rest would speed her recovery. Marjory agreed reluctantly, but not before she had cursed the girl for the wantonness that had brought her to her present state.

  Katheryn, exhausted by her journey, had been glad to retire to her chamber early after the splendid supper provided by Marjory Moore for her honoured guest. The best cloths had draped the table, the best silverware brought out for the occasion. The cook had sweated over juicy joints of meat since Katheryn's arrival had been announced in the kitchens. It wasn't every day that the former Abbess of a great religious house, the sister of Sir Richard Bulkeley of Beaumaris, came visiting the dower house of the Moores of Liverpool. Wealthy burgesses though the Moores were, they still did not aspire to the status of gentry.

  Jane went eagerly to her mistress to help her prepare for bed. Katheryn yawned and relaxed as her maidservant brushed her hair. She was glad to be in the privacy of her bedchamber. Mistress Marjory was not the most comfortable of companions.

  "Are they treating you well, Jane? How are your quarters?"

  "Well enough, my lady."

  "Have you spoken with Will? Is he comfortable?"

  Jane blushed. "Oh yes, my lady. He is to sleep above the stables with the grooms. He says he has naught to complain of."

  "And you?"

  "I share with Griselda and Margaret, the maidservants."

  "Have they said much of the household?"

  Jane looked down shyly.

  "Come along, girl, what have they said? Whatever you tell me shall be our secret. What do they say?"

  Jane shuffled her feet. She knew her mistress would not give up until she had learned the truth. "They talk of Mistress Moore, my lady. They say she's...she's a harridan. That she likes everything her own way...and that she is over strict and works them hard...and that she is mean. I'm sorry, my lady, but that's what they say."

  Katheryn smiled. "I think I've discovered all that for myself, Jane. Do they speak of Agnes?"

  "Only that they are sorry for her...and they think she had a secret lover." The last words were said with relish. Jane enjoyed gossip and could always be relied upon to keep Katheryn informed about the more intimate aspects of life back home in the village of Cheadle.

  "Tell me all you know, Jane. Who is this secret lover?"

  "They know nothing of him, only that she would disappear for hours to meet him. She would say nothing concerning him even when Griselda questioned her."

  "Is Agnes unhappy here?"

  "Griselda thinks so."

  "And desperate to get away?"

  Jane shrugged.

  "Maybe Agnes was so desperate that she...that she sought to obtain money by means that would imperil her immortal soul."

  Jane looked at Katheryn blankly, not grasping her meaning. "I talk of the sins of Saint Mary Magdalen...before her repentance, of course. Could Agnes have become a whore, do you think?" Jane looked shocked but Katheryn continued. "There are many sailors in this place. And the men of the town: many who would be willing to pay for a pretty girl's favours. Have Griselda and Margaret considered this possibility?"

  "I'm sure they haven't, my lady. And I don't think we should speak of such things. The girl was a nun."

  "And I have known many nuns who could not count chastity amongst their virtues. Did not the King give immorality as one of the reasons for closing the religious houses of this land?"

  "But my lady, you must know..."

  "I know only that I tried to run my own Abbey as a house of prayer and devotion. I cannot speak for others. Why even at Godstow it was not unknown for young monks studying at Oxford to navigate the Thames and call upon the young nuns of my Abbey." Jane gasped, shocked. "The flesh is always with us, Jane." Katheryn turned and looked at her reflection in the mirror. "When you have lived longer you will understand such things."

  "But the young monks and the nuns of your Abbey...did they?"

  "Katheryn turned to the blushing girl. "I could only advise against sin, my child. It would have taken a better one than I to stop it altogether."

  The two women said nothing for a while, their silence amicable, as Jane continued to brush her lady's hair. Then Jane remembered what it was that was bothering her.

  "There was one thing Griselda said, my lady."

  "What was that?"

  "When Margaret told Agnes of her young man and said that he'd not been attentive to her of late, Agnes told her she knew someone who could make a love potion...someone skilled in the black arts. She remembered it because she was surprised that Agnes should know of such things, having been a nun."

  Katheryn smiled, sceptical. “There is always some crone ready to provide a giddy girl with a love potion.”

  "Margaret says there is a woman in Liverpool who deals in such things...Mother Sherratt. But when Agnes talked she said "he". Do you think it could be important, my lady?"

  Katheryn stared at the mirror and spoke slowly; she was tired. "I don't know, Jane. It might be. Sister Agnes has many matters to explain."

  *

  Katheryn awoke and threw back the bed curtains to find Jane pouring hot water from the kitchens into a bowl. Katheryn was in the habit of washing each morning; most were not. Jane was shaping up well. The girl was anticipating her mistress's needs without instruction: that was good. Katheryn would miss her when she married and had a family of her own to look after, and from what she had observed between Jane and Will Gatley, that day would not be too far away.

  "Jane turned to see Katheryn watching her and bobbed a curtsey. "Your water's ready, my lady."

  "Thank you, Jane. I trust you slept well?"

  "Quite well, my lady. But those girls I share with are such gigglers and gossips. They talked well into the night."

  "What did they gossip about?" Katheryn was keen to glean any bits of juicy information connected with Agnes before she actually faced the girl.

  "Griselda thinks Agnes is enamoured of a sailor and that he has returned to some foreign land and that is why he has not called."

  "A reasonable explanation. What evidence has she?"

  Jane shrugged. Gossip needs no evidence. "It seems that Mistress Agnes looked out to sea a great deal. That is all, as far as I know. Griselda is courting an sailor herself so...”

  "As your new companions are such tale tellers, we are bound to come by the truth eventually." Katheryn grinned. "Or their version of it. Do tell me, Jane, if you discover anything of interest."

  "I shall, my lady." Their eyes met conspiratorially.

  Katheryn washed and dressed in her third best gown of dark green, with russet embroidered kirtle and fashionably wide sleeves. She had to keep up appearances in front of Mistress Moore, a snob if ever Katheryn saw one. She prayed and broke her fast with some smooth ale and fine white bread that Jane had been thoughtful enough to bring to her chamber.

  After examining her appearance in her mirror, Katheryn descended the oak staircase. The Old Hall was a comfortable house, kept clean with fresh rushes and herbs. The hangings on the wall were of rich tapestry and the wood was polished by a small army of well-trained servants. Mistress Marjory was c
aptain of a tight ship.

  Marjory Moore greeted her guest in the parlour. After the usual polite enquiries, Katheryn came straight to the point. "Is Agnes well enough to receive me, Mistress Moore?"

  "The girl still keeps to her bed but..."

  "Then I will go to her, if you have no objection."

  Mistress Marjory's lips tightened. She issued the invitations in her own household, controlled the comings and goings. But she reminded herself that Katheryn was there to help and that she might even persuade Agnes to become a useful member of the household once more - or even take the disgraced girl with her when she returned to Cheshire. "Of course, my lady. If you do not mind the girl being in a state of undress and neglect, brought on by her own idleness."

  "Agnes is ill, mistress. I quite understand if she does not dress to receive me." With this Katheryn bowed her head to the mistress of the house and swept back up the staircase. She remembered the way to Agnes's chamber, a small room at the south end of the front of the house; almost an antechamber to the empty larger room one had to pass through to reach it. The poor relation had been put well out of the way so that she would know her place. Katheryn felt the presence of cold charity. She knocked on the door and gently pushed it open.

  Agnes was huddled in bed, dressed in a plain white shift which sapped the colour from her already pale face. It took her a few seconds to recognise Katheryn - dressed as she was in a fashionable gown rather then the black habit and white wimple of the Benedictine Order - but then her eyes lit with surprise and delight. Agnes almost leaped from her bed and, to Katheryn's dismay, knelt at her feet and kissed her hand.

  "Mother Abbess, I have sinned grievously. I beg you to pray for my soul." Agnes's eyes filled with tears. She continued, sobbing. "I did not think you would come. I have been so wicked. But I cannot repent of my sin. I still long for it. Oh, Mother, what can I do?"

  Katheryn bent to help the shaking girl to her feet, then put her arm around her and held her close. She could feel the warm dampness of Agnes's tears penetrating the thick cloth of her bodice. "Do not distress yourself, my daughter. There is no sin that God cannot forgive. Tell me about it. That will help."

  Agnes took a deep breath, composing herself. Katheryn noticed that he shift was grubby and stained with crusted brown blood about the middle. Mistress Marjory had washed her hands of her relation, denying her even fresh linen. The room was bare, the bed but a board in the corner with a straw filled mattress, and the rushes were old. There was no polish and sweet herbs here.

  Agnes sat on the bed, her hands between her knees, rocking to and fro. There was no fire in the room: the child was cold. Katheryn rummaged in the wooden chest at the foot of the bed and drew out a shabby cloak. She put it around Agnes's shoulders.

  After a minute, Agnes looked up at Katheryn and spoke softly. "I have committed the sin of fornication, Mother, and God has punished me."

  "I know you lost your child." Katheryn sat down by Agnes and put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Who was the father, Agnes? Does he know you were with child?"

  "I cannot tell you. I promised I would tell no one."

  "Surely he should know. Is he here in Liverpool now?"

  Agnes sat tight lipped.

  "Is he a sailor? Is he from some foreign place?"

  Agnes smiled, a secret smile. Katheryn gathered that this guess was way off the mark.

  "Does he wish to marry you?"

  Agnes looked down at her ringless hands. "He cannot."

  "He is married already?"

  Agnes hesitated. "In a sense. I can say no more. I cannot go against my word."

  "You asked for my help. I can do nothing for you if you do not tell me."

  "I should never have written to you. I should never have put you to the trouble of coming here. I'm so sorry. I am beyond all help. You cannot understand."

  "I cannot understand if you will not tell me." Katheryn sighed. The conversation was going nowhere. She tried again. "What happened in the chapel, Agnes?"

  "It was a judgement on me."

  "What was?"

  "I saw..."

  "What did you see?"

  "He was behind the altar. I saw him.”

  "Who did you see?" Katheryn was losing patience.

  "I sensed such evil." Agnes was shaking her head.

  "Who was it, Agnes? Who did you see?"

  Agnes looked up, her eyes filled with terror. “The devil. I saw the devil.”

  *

  Katheryn took her leave of Agnes after persuading her to return to bed and rest while she could.

  Katheryn desired to see this remarkable chapel for herself : the place where, it was reputed, miracles had occurred and where even Satan himself had made an appearance.

  With Jane beside her and Will bringing up the rear, she walked down Chapel Street, her cloak wrapped about her firmly against the chill wind from the river. The handsome church of Our Lady and Saint Nicholas stood like a beacon, greeting the seafarers who put into the port. At the corner of its churchyard next to the sand at the edge of the river, stood a humbler, older building: the ancient chapel of St. Mary del Quay. But before she went in, Katheryn led Jane and Will down to the shore and they stood on the damp red-gold sand taking in their surroundings.

  The strand was littered with small boats; even those who didn’t make their living by fishing used their free time to catch fish for their tables. Small single-sailed craft sped across the expanse of the Mersey like white winged insects while larger ships bobbed on the river; merchantmen anchored on the wide waters. Further along the strand men were unloading cargoes of linen and leather from ships standing at the end of wooden jetties. The people of this small, busy port made the best use they could of the sea’s bounty.

  Near the chapel stood Lord Derby's fine fortified house, the Tower; another landmark for sailors, its red stone walls solid against wild coastal storms. Further in the distance stood the castle, squatting malevolently on its red rocky outcrop. Across the river, amidst the green of open fields, Katheryn could make out a small group of stone buildings dominated by what looked like a church tower: was this, she wondered, what remained of the Priory at Birkenhead?

  She turned back towards the chapel. "What think you of Liverpool, Jane?" she asked amicably.

  "Chilly, my lady."

  "I agree. It is ever thus on the coast." Katheryn noticed that Jane was shuffling her feet to and fro on the sand as if testing the ground. "You have never seen a sea shore, Jane?"

  Jane shook her head. "All this water...and the boats..."

  "It is the Mersey: the same river we have in Cheadle." Jane looked at her disbelievingly.

  "The Mersey is but a narrow river, my lady. This is not..."

  "All rivers flow to the sea, Jane. And this is where our river joins it. Look out there at the headland. It is the sea."

  Jane gaped at one of nature's miracles until her mistress broke the spell. “Before we go to the chapel I will ask for the ferryman who found Agnes. He may be about if he is not on the water."

  Katheryn, to Jane's unease, approached some fishermen who pointed down the beach at a tall young man standing by a simple jetty further down past the Tower. At the end of the jetty a modest open craft bobbed on the waves, its single sail furled. Jane and Will watched as Katheryn strode across the sand, lifting her skirts carefully, and greeted the young man.

  "You are Bartholomew, the ferryman?"

  "Indeed, madam. Do you wish to cross the river? We have a good breeze today and the tides are with us. The passage should be swift." The young man was strong in body with dark curly hair and an open smile. Katheryn liked him on sight.

  She explained her presence and Bartholomew's expression changed to one of concern. "It is good that Sister Agnes has a friend in the town, my lady. I feel that Mistress Moore regards her as a nuisance. I have called several times to ask after Agnes but Mistress Moore wouldn’t let me see her. I have suggested that Brother Valentine visits her again. He examined her after
she was found in the chapel. He was the infirmarian of our priory at Birkenhead and is skilled in the care of the sick."

  "And what did Mistress Moore say to your suggestion?"

  "That Agnes was recovering and there was no point spending good money on a physician." This sounded typical of Mistress Marjory Moore.

  "I think that your Brother Valentine should see the girl. I will pay for any medicines. Mistress Moore need have no worry for her purse."

  "Thank you, my lady. It would put my mind at rest. I have prayed constantly for Sister Agnes's recovery."

 

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