“I’m unaware of anyone placing her in your keeping for more than a few nights lodging,” Hildegard replied with contempt. “Nor am I aware that anyone asked for her to be turned into a martyr. I’m appalled that you can treat a child in this cruel manner.” She tried to move past the nun but she refused to give up her position in the doorway. A large iron cross rested on her bosom and some well-used wooden beads swung from her thick leather belt.
“Get your hands off that child,” she snapped. “She belongs to us now.” Her lip curled. She turned her head and shouted to the porteress. “Fetch Sister Michael!” The porteress scurried out of the lodge at once and ran in a fluster of skirts to do as she was ordered.
Hildegard was thinking rapidly but apart from physically pushing the woman out of the way she could see no polite resolution to the problem. She said, “I feel strongly about being kept a prisoner here, mother. You have no jurisdiction in my Order. I ask you most humbly to allow us to pass.”
The nun gave her a contemptuous glance and refused a reply. At that moment a heavily built figure appeared at the far end of the corridor. “Hurry!” screamed the mother superior over her shoulder, all control gone in an instant. “They’re abducting our saint! Help! Help!”
The newcomer trundled towards them, the porteress and several other black-robed figures trailing in her wake. Sister Michael replaced her superior in the doorway with folded arms.
Hildegard stepped back a pace. “I’m astonished you should seek to threaten us. This is an outrage.”
As she spoke she began to push Petronilla towards the door under cover of her cloak The porteress was still puffing along the corridor with the other nuns. The way to the street was momentarily clear if only Petronilla would realise this in time. All she had to do was evade Sister Michael and the mother superior.
Gripping Maud tightly by the back of her cloak Hildegard urged her forward and Petronilla, to her relief, slipped between the nun’s heavy skirts and the wall, dodged the outstretched arms of the mother superior and hurled herself at the main doors. While she was tugging at the bolts Hildegard stepped forward and banged her forehead hard into Sister Michael’s face who, arms still folded across her chest, lurched backwards with a grunt of pain.
It was the opportunity to allow Hildegard to propel Maud through the gap that opened up and push the mother superior back hard against the wall as the bolts slid fully open and the key was turned. Then all three burst through the great doors and out into the street.
Without pausing to see whether the nuns would pursue them into what was for them forbidden territory they sped like lightning towards the town. Hildegard realised she was almost carrying Maud by the scruff of her gown and when they reached the first corner and turned into it, she released her grip. Bending down so she could look into her face, she asked, “Tell me the truth, Maud, do you want to go back there or come with us?”
Maud began to sob and throwing her arms round Hildegard’s neck, cried, “Don’t let them kill me. I don’t want to die. Please, please don’t let them kill me!”
* * *
It was one of Hildegard’s advantages that she had resources of her own as well as recent payment from the sale of beeswax. She took both girls into the nearest inn, bathed Maud’s wounds in the running water from the pump in the yard then ordered as much food and drink as they wanted, digging into her scrip for the coins.
Surprisingly, no one had followed them. That didn’t mean to say someone wouldn’t be delegated to step outside the nunnery walls and attempt to take Maud back at some time. But for now they were safe. Nobody would try to snatch a young girl from inside a crowded eating-house under the very noses of a crowd of townsfolk.
“The nuns may have been misguided and cruel,” said Hildegard when both girls were each settled with a pie covered in thick gravy, “but I’m sure they would never have killed you.”
Maud shook her head. “Not them. The others,” she said, her head down.
“What others?” asked Hildegard.
“That knight and his men-at-arms.” She burst into tears.
Hildegard put an arm round her and gave her a hug. “What makes you think they’d try a thing like that?”
Maud merely shook her head and tried to scrub away her tears.
“I don’t think that gravy’s going to taste very nice with your salt tears in it,” Hildegard said after a moment. She offered the girl a corner of her sleeve. “Wipe your face with this. Everything is going to be all right.”
Petronilla said, “I told you Sister Hildegard would help us when she came back.”
At that moment a man came up to them. He was tall and stoop-shouldered with a few red whiskers on his chin and a dusty green hood pulled well down over his face. He slid onto the bench next to Petronilla and leaned across the table. “Sister Hildegard?”
Startled, she looked up. “Who wants to know?”
“Master Theophilus.” He glanced right and left and leaned even closer. “You don’t recognise me do you?”
She stared hard at his face then gave a puzzled frown. “It’s you? In disguise?”
He nodded. “Keep your voice down. I followed you all the way from Naburn Manor because I didn’t want to talk in front of the monk. The fewer people who know about this the better.”
“What do you want?”
“Just the name of the place where I can find the young woman we talked about. I’ve been thinking about that name you mentioned. The man,” he said with a quick glance at the two girls to see if they were listening. “I need your discretion.”
“Can you tell me what it’s about?”
“Not here. But yes, I will tell you. It should interest you.”
“As you can see I have my hands full at present.”
“I understand. I saw you haring down the street just now as if the hounds of hell were after you.” A smile split his face. “You can tell me your story in exchange for mine.”
“I have to get these two girls to a place of safety,” she told him. “I doubt whether I can find lodging in the town. It’s fuller than ever with the pageant only days away so it may take some time. I need to hear your story before I give you the information you want.” He could glean Dorelia’s whereabouts by asking around the town taverns, she was thinking.
As if he had read her mind he said, “Fair enough. I like your caution. Of course, I could go to an ale-house and make enquiries. The only reason I don’t want to do that is it might make the situation worse if it gets out that I have an interest. Let’s meet later when you’ve dealt with your other business.”
“At the minster then, around vespers,” she said quickly. She would take the girls to Thomas at the friary and ask him to convey them speedily to Naburn Manor. They would be safe under the protection of Lord Roger and Lady Melisen.
Master Theophilus offered to accompany the three of them through the town. He walked tall and protectively beside them and Hildegard was glad of his presence even though there was no sign of anyone in pursuit. He left them near the friary with an encouraging nod. “Till vespers then.” He was soon swallowed up in the crowd.
The town was busier by the hour. Now there were frequent groups of craftsmen dressed in the costumes they would be wearing during the mystery plays threading their way through the crowds on their way to and from rehearsals. A young man in a white shift wearing a bent-wire halo with a dove fixed to the top greeted her by name and she did a double-take before realising it was Jankin as the Archangel Gabriel.
“I’ve not turned into a spicer,” he called back over his shoulder, indicating the crowd of apprentices who accompanied him. “I’m borrowed because of my good looks!” He was whisked off by the laughing group, all of them wearing an assortment of bizarre costumes.
* * *
Thomas was astonished when they turned up at the friary. Briefly she explained what had happened. He bent his head and said kindly to Maud, “I’ll certainly hear your confession, my lady, if you so wish. I’m ready to
listen whenever you’re ready.”
He got a nod of agreement in response and straightened. To Hildegard he said, “I’ll take them to Naburn after that. Maybe while I’m there I’ll hear the latest from Lord Roger about the theft of the cross.”
Maud touched him on his sleeve. “Shall it be here in the chapel?”
He nodded. “If you so wish.” With a brief acknowledgement to Hildegard he led the way into the pilgrim chapel at the friary gates. They went in after him and sat against the back wall to wait out of earshot.
* * *
Maud’s confession took longer than Hildegard had expected. They could glimpse her bowed head as she talked in privacy at the far end of the building in a little arched alcove.
Hildegard’s thoughts strayed to the theft of the cross. Word had still not been sent to Swyne admitting its loss. Secretly she hoped it would be found before she had to own up to its theft. There were no suspects apart from Bolingbroke. If he had it they would have to wrest it from his clutches at all costs. The problem would be how to do so.
She recalled the archbishop’s man whom Thomas had mentioned as having set in motion the rumour of its return to England and wondered if he had anything to do with it. Loose-tongued might equal other weaknesses, such as common assault and larceny.
Suddenly the two figures rose to their feet and Maud followed Thomas with bowed head down the nave towards them. Instead of an air of relief at being released from her burden, Maud seemed as stricken as before. Thomas was white-faced. Hildegard went to met them.
“If you’re ready I’ll take them both on to Naburn Manor,” he said.
She gave him a quizzical glance. “Very well.” She reached into her scrip. “Let me give you enough to pay for the horses.” He made a gesture of refusal but she ignored it. “I’m grateful for your help, Thomas.” She knew he could say nothing of Maud’s confession but she was puzzled by the look on his face. “Is everything now settled?”
He shook his head. “Such evil to exist in mankind is hard to stomach.” He shepherded them all towards the doors then said in a lowered voice to Hildegard, “The poor little soul. I’ll return as soon as I’ve spoken to Lady Melisen. There’s a need to treat Maud with the utmost gentleness.”
“She’s already told us what happened.”
He was grim-faced. “There’s more. Much more.”
Chapter Fifteen
Alone again, Hildegard set about finding somewhere to stay for the night. Everywhere was full. She was offered a space in a reeking, shared chamber above a butcher’s shop in the Shambles and said she would think about it. Meanwhile she found herself in Stonegate and, remembering the rambling building where Master Danby lived and had his workshop, made her way there. At least he might know of someone with space to offer.
There was no Jankin to answer the door this time. Dorelia answered it herself, looking flustered, and when Hildegard commented on Jankin’s absence she said carelessly, “He’s up on Pageant Green I expect. Making a hash of his lines.” Her violet eyes were briefly animated and then she looked down again as if having done wrong to show a little spirit.
She opened the door wider. “Come in, do. Master’s at one of his meetings but he won’t be long.” She added a little shyly, “I’ll be glad of somebody to talk to.”
“Don’t you get much opportunity?” asked Hildegard lightly as she followed the girl into the front workshop. “What about Mistress Julitta?”
“Oh, you know, she does try to rule the roost, and anyway, they’re all a bit…” The girl gave a shrug and a sudden smile that was like a flash of summer lightning, adding, “they’re older than me.”
“You’re not from round here, are you?” Hildegard asked when she didn’t continue. They were sitting comfortably with a beaker of wine apiece near the open window in the front workshop by the time she replied.
“I’m from down Wakefield way, me.”
Hildegard looked suitably astonished. “Heavens, this is a long way from home. Don’t you miss your kin?”
The wide eyes showed no emotion. “I ain’t got none to speak of, not now. I ain’t got nothing. My uncle Jed was the last one that died. Master Danby’s all I have now.”
“So how did you and the master happen to meet, living so far apart?” Hildegard asked, not having to feign interest.
Dorelia’s bottom lip puckered. “It were by means of his brother,” she said after a slight pause. “Master Baldwin.”
“That was lucky,” Hildegard replied. “But it must have been just as lucky to meet him as Master Edric?”
“Aye, if you can call that luck!” Her eyes flashed. Then she seemed to remember herself and lowered her head to fiddle with a piece of lace on her sleeve, mumbling, “I was certainly at my wit’s end when he happened along.”
“Was this in Wakefield?”
“Aye.”
“What was he doing down there?”
“Working.”
“It’s a long way to travel to do a bit of glazing.”
There was another slight pause. “He was just working out that way,” she repeated.
Hildegard let it go. She would find out what Master Baldwin had been doing over in Wakefield when he brought his brother together with a girl half his age. There was the handsome swain to be considered, as well as the uncle’s bequest.
Remembering her meeting with Theophilus when the bell for vespers began to toll, she quickly told Dorelia why she had called round. Before she had finished the girl was shaking her head.
“We have no room. It looks big here but it’s mostly workshop space. There’s an attic and that’s it. But I know who has room and it’s only a short step from here.” She got up eagerly. “Let me give her a call.”
She slipped out into the yard through a side door, gesturing for Hildegard to follow. Passing the door to the inner workshop Hildegard noticed Gilbert inside. He was standing over the trestle with a large brush in his hands, whistling to himself and whitewashing the surface with broad loving strokes.
Dorelia was knocking on the window of a cottage across the yard when she went outside and explained, “She’s a widow woman and I know full well she has an empty chamber where her son used to be.”
It was as she said. The widow was delighted at the prospect of having a nun stay with her. “The usual roustabouts that come to town at this time wouldn’t do for me. But I’d willingly let it to you, sister.”
“I’d be happy to pay you a good price,” Hildegard told her. “It might be for several nights.”
“Stay as long as you wish,” Widow Roberts replied.
Hildegard made a down payment to show she was serious and then excused herself. “I have something to attend to in the town,” she told them. “But I’ll be back this evening.”
* * *
There was no sign of Theophilus when she stepped inside the echoing vault of the minster. It was crowded at this time of day, most people making for the chapel where the service for vespers would be held, others, sightseers, the usual sprinkling of pilgrims, a few lawmen waiting for business, but no mage, red-whiskered or not, and she was just about to turn round and go back outside in case he had decided to wait there when she felt someone fall into step beside her.
“Heavens! You startled me. It seems you can appear as well as disappear at will!”
He chuckled. “Just one of the professional skills of a mage.” He had a teasing look. “So, sister, shall we find a private corner or keep walking?”
“Let’s walk.” They went outside and began a slow circuit round the minster yard. It was still hot in the late sunshine but they kept to the shadow of the north side. “I’m sorry I’m so late,” she began, “but I may have some news for you.” She told him how she had just left Dorelia. “She told me straightaway she was from Wakefield.”
“I knew it. There’s no way I could ever forget that face, even though it’s a couple of years since I last saw her. I knew her uncle,” he explained.
“She mentioned an un
cle.”
“Jed?”
She nodded.
“We made a pledge to help one another”—he paused—“as one does.”
She gave him a covert glance. “As members of the same brotherhood?”
He ignored that and instead pointed to the passersby. “I’ve had a pleasant wait,” he told her. “Studying the book of life.” The crowds were perambulating in the shade afforded by the minster and his sharp glance flickered over them. “It’s most instructive, watching the skittle-sharpers and the thimble-riggers. Those of that ilk. For sheer professionalism watch that pardoner over there. See him?” She followed his glance. “He was here when I arrived, already filling his money-pouch. Look, he’s found another mark!”
They watched.
The pardoner, an attractive fellow in a smart capuchon folded Turkish style on his head, had approached a young, pretty woman carrying a shopping basket. He said something to her in passing. It was obvious it was a compliment from the way she fluttered in response and turned to look back at him.
“First he flatters her,” observed Theophilus. “Now look, she walks on but he draws her back with some other light comment to which she feels obliged to reply. She pretends she’s about to walk away but he’s not having that. Watch, see what he does.”
The pardoner briefly rested his hand on the woman’s shoulder.
“He’ll be in her bed next!” The mage chuckled.
The young woman was shaking her head and just then a portly, red-faced fellow somewhere near forty came puffing up.
“The husband. And not pleased,” observed Theophilus, narrowing his cat’s eyes. “But what can he do?”
The pardoner said something to the husband.
Theophilus gave another chuckle. “The cheek of it! He’s getting him on his own side! Watch this.”
The pardoner said something to make the husband laugh while at the same time handing the wife one of his pardons. Then he put his hand on the husband’s arm, man to man, and they walked off, leaving the wife holding the pardon.
The Law of Angels Page 15