The Alchemist of Netley Abbey: Eighth in the Hildegard of Meaux medieval mystery series

by Cassandra Clark

  As soon as he was out of sight she knocked on the door and this time waited for Hywel to answer it.

  ‘I knew you’d come.’ He pulled her inside. ‘How much do they want?’

  ‘They want you to name your price.’

  He smiled. ‘High or low? How keen are they to get rid of it?’

  ‘Not at all, I shouldn’t think. I haven’t spoken to them.’

  He looked thoughtful.

  ‘I’m tired, Hywel. It’s the middle of the night. I’m going in to Matins and then I shall try to get a few hours’ sleep before Prime.’

  ‘When will you speak to them?’

  ‘I’m not a go-between. I may not speak to them.’

  ‘Them? Are there more than one or is this just a manner of speaking to allow no clue to their identity? How interesting that is, in itself. It suggests that he – or she – ’ he broke off. ‘She?’ He was staring at her intently. ‘How curious. What vistas are opened up by that one word. We know only one ‘she’ who went on board the ship that night.’ He gave an odd grimace. ‘And she has disappeared.’ He got up and rearranged a few things on his work bench then looked up quickly as if to catch the truth on her face. ‘It cannot be her then, can it? Unless you’re – no, I don’t think you’d lie. Anyway, you’ll have to produce the book on payment, won’t you?’

  Wondering how on earth she had allowed herself to get embroiled in all this Hildegard rubbed a hand over her eyes. ‘I won’t have to produce anything. It’s nothing to do with me...I’m really sleepy now, Hywel...I’ll say goodnight.’

  ‘I don’t want to let you out of my sight,’ he said in a darkly urgent voice.

  ‘I must go.’ She went to the door and opened it.

  ‘Stay with me.’ He followed her to the threshold.

  ‘I can tell you nothing more.’

  ‘I don’t mean for any reason to do with the book. I mean – stay with me.’

  His haunted looks made him handsome. The dark eyes were shadowed and his wide, sensitive mouth seemed alluringly close. She put up a hand as if to ward him off but he clasped it fervently in his own and brought it to those very lips and pressed them over and over again on the back of her hand and then, turning it, kissed the inside of her wrist.

  ‘Stay,’ he repeated. ‘I beg you to stay with me if only for a little while. You are the only one who understands me, the only one who could ever be my equal in the great work. Stay, Hildegard...stay with me...You know we can do great things together. The sun, the moon. Mars and Venus. We two...in this swamp of iniquity...together we can bring redress to an unjust world.’

  ‘How would we do that, Hywel?’ She carefully removed her hand from his and covered it inside one of her sleeves.

  ‘I can tell you more if you’ll stay with me and let me explain...It could be the saving of King Richard...not to mention Prince Owain.’

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’

  ‘Come – ’ He stepped back and held the door wide.

  After a moment’s hesitation she stepped over the threshold into his cell.

  Chapter Nine

  Jankin was asleep in his blanket under the work-bench and Hywel went over to poke him with the toe of his boot. ‘Wake up! Come on!’

  When Jankin snuffled out of his covers he was too bleered with sleep to say anything.

  Hywel poked him again. ‘Get up. Go and sleep under the vines outside the drying hut. It’s too hot to lie within.’ As the boy rose shakily to his feet Hywel added, ‘I don’t want to see you before Prime.’

  Without saying anything the apprentice groped his way to the door and disappeared into the night.

  ‘Now then, let me get you a comfortable chair – ’

  ‘I’m not staying long, Hywel – ’

  ‘Only until Matins, of course.’

  Determined not to let him take the initiative she asked, ‘So what did you mean, the saving of King Richard. Is it to do with this book – ?’

  He gave her that intent stare again and said quickly, ‘This is nothing to do with that, as such. I told you, I need...for the work to...’ For once he seemed unable to find the appropriate word.

  ‘What is this work?’ she interrupted.

  ‘I need help with it. You know about the attempt to turn base metals into gold and silver?’

  ‘I have heard that some men believe they can do that successfully, yes. But I have heard of no instances of it having been achieved.’

  ‘Not here, no, not in England, not in France either, but in the east, yes, maybe also in Castile – why else would Gaunt desire the – yes, there, almost surely it has been done.’

  ‘How do you know this, have you been there and seen it for yourself?’

  ‘No, but I believe it but only after reading the manuscripts that show how it can be done. It is well known that gold can be melted and turned into base metal so why can’t the process be reversed? Think what it would mean for King Richard in his battle for survival. He would be able to afford to raise an army against those of Lancaster, Gloucester and Arundel. It would mean the end to this constant threat of civil war. His crown would be secure. As it is, every time the barons attack him he has to give way. Look at what happened recently at Westminster. What a fool he was made to look, a weak and defenceless fool with only weak men as allies – and all because he has no army under his command.’

  ‘And I suppose that, as well as the king, Prince Owain would welcome such a process,’ she smiled slyly. ‘Isn’t this what you really want?’

  He was handsome when he laughed as he did now. His finely chiseled features, with their slightly haggard, wasted lines, the fire that was lit deep in the darkness of his eyes, his intensity, made him touching and desirable. When his eyes met Hildegard’s he read her mind at once and stopped, about to say something, then turned away, then looked back again and was about to say something again, and then stopped again.

  All he managed was her name, spoken with a husky almost strangled intonation as if his very soul fought against it.

  For a long moment they sat and looked at each other without speaking.

  Hildegard had the sensation that she was allowing destiny to decide her fate. The reins were slipping from her hands.

  Berating herself for that unguarded appraisal she fiddled with the edge of her sleeve while she gathered her wits then, lifting her head with a show of impatience she brushed temptation aside saying, ‘We know it would be the saving of the king – and also of Owain and your fellow Welsh – but it will not be. There is no such process. And,’ remembering the opinion of Master John, ‘don’t you see, if there were, anyone could obtain the secret, the price of gold would fall, we would be back where we started.’

  He leaned forward, eyes glittering. ‘But no-one need discover it but ourselves.’

  Hildegard dismissed this idea with a scornful jerk of her head. ‘How would you prevent it?’

  ‘By involving only those I could trust with the secret.’

  ‘And you trust me?’

  ‘Why would I not trust you, Hildegard?’ His eyes held an animal gleam. ‘You would never lie to me, would you?’

  She did not reply.

  He got up and came towards her, soft-footed, smiling again, and confident. For reassurance she pressed the hard oblong of the knife hidden in her sleeve. ‘Who,’ he asked, still smiling, ‘is the go-between – the one who stands between you and the thief?’

  ‘I cannot tell you.’

  ‘Cannot, will not,’ he muttered to himself with a sardonic twist of the lips. ‘You have a strong will. Why else would I want you as an ally? But there must be a way of making you answer. I must be the stronger in this partnership.’

  ‘There is no such thing, Hywel. I have agreed to nothing.’

  ‘Oh but you have. You agreed when we met earlier this evening and – you know what happened then as well as I do. It was there between us, the power, the gold, the silver, the sun and the moon...the promise of an alchemical marriage.’

  �
�I will not tell you the name of the go-between. Give me a price for the book and I shall pass it on. If it is accepted you will have your book. As for a marr...’ she faltered, ‘a partnership between us...that can never be.’

  His face turned to wood and the light left his eyes. ‘Very well. I shall pay whatever this thief asks. Tell them, him or her, whoever, tell them they will have their thief’s gold, much good may it do them. But we shall have something else. Believe me, we two shall have an alchemical marriage.’

  ‘I may go?’

  ‘Am I keeping you?’ He spread his arms.

  When she got up, however, he came swiftly to her and took both of her hands between his own. ‘Whatever you say, there is a bond of power between us and you will come to know it and to celebrate.’

  Shakily she stepped outside into the calm, clear moonlight and never had the open air seemed so welcoming, so fresh, so pure. The aura in Hywel’s shadowy, aromatic cell with its charts and distillations and its innocent-seeming instrument for measuring the stars clung to her like the summoning of a madman’s malign obsession.

  She strode out swiftly the quicker to put a distance between herself and Hywel when two figures appeared from out of the shadows near the building opposite.

  She stepped back to avoid them then stalled when she heard the voice of Jankin whispering her name.

  ‘Is that Alaric with you?’ she asked, peering through the darkness.

  ‘It is.’ He stepped into the moonlight. ‘We were curious to know what transpired.’

  ‘Do we need to fear being turned into toads?’ Jankin asked with a jocular air that sat ill with his worried frown.

  ‘I gave you my word, Alaric, that I would not tell Hywel the identity of the go-between. And you, Jankin, I had no idea you were in on this marvelous secret too.’

  ‘Impossible not to be, living in that cell of his with all the books around. I read better than he thinks. He sounds quite mad and I admit I’m afraid of him sometimes but then other times he’s the sweetest man alive. It’s this obsession with the philosopher’s stone that’s turning him into a monster.’ Jankin gave her a beseeching look. ‘He must have explained all that to you?’

  ‘What? About a stone? Is this what that what it’s all about?...I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s not just any old stone. It’s The Stone, the one the philosophers have been searching for since time immemorial. The Stone. The Stone of Power. The one that can turn base metal into gold.’

  ‘I think he expected to have it delivered to him but something has gone very wrong.’

  ‘And the book?’

  ‘It’s something to do with that.’

  Alaric said, ‘I’ve asked Mistress Beata to explain but she denies all knowledge of it. “Men’s nonsense,” she calls it.’

  Jankin said stoutly, ‘Well, she can count me out of that range of men because I don’t believe in it either. I’d like to see it turn a bit of old tin-plate armor into gold. That’d be a thing, wouldn’t it?’ He laughed. ‘Friar Hywel says he’s seen documents that attest to it.’ He turned to Alaric. ‘Be careful, brother, the dangers of learning to read are never properly explained. It can turn your head if you don’t watch out.’

  ‘You wouldn’t go back to unlearning your letters, would you?’ Alaric looked shocked to the core.

  ‘I only said be careful. Don’t be led astray by unlikely promises in what you read.’

  ‘Listen, fellows,’ Hildegard interrupted. ‘Forget this stone. Hywel says he’ll pay any price to get hold of the book. Tell Mistress Beata that and my involvement is done.’

  The bell for Matins started to toll. Hildegard gazed in despair at the door leading up to her sleeping chamber and then turned towards the church. If she found a suitable corner she might snatch some sleep yet.

  Chapter Ten

  Next morning she was woken up by a shaft of sunlight shining onto her eyelids. Her sheet had been kicked to the floor and she was lying naked again in another day of stifling heat.

  With a groan she rolled over and buried her head in the feather pillow but it was too late now, she was awake and after a moment or two she raised herself onto one elbow then sat up. The events of the preceding night came rushing back.

  Was she mad to get involved in all this? It had started when Hubert had asked, as a favour to his hosts, to find out what had happened to Brother Martin. Then it had turned into a hunt for a stolen book. Now it seemed she was involved in a plot with a magician to save the crown of England. And possibly to assist in the overthrow of the Norman lords in Wales.

  Treasonable stuff, she said to herself. It’s overblown. We should never discuss these things in the middle of the night. People take leave of their senses, especially when there’s a full moon as there was last night.

  At first she had seen Hywel as a simple herberer, then as a cool if not cold investigator into the phenomena of natural life, asking what things were made of, when and why the stars changed their positions, what caused the world we see around ourselves and what is its purpose. Now he was engaged, if he were to be believed, in experiments that would alter the course of nature and give inexhaustible power to the man who discovered the hermetic law that could change the essence of a thing into something entirely different.

  She wondered if he had given a thought to the charge of heresy that might be directed against him.

  Yawning she drew on her shift, pulled a kirtle over it, the lightest she could find, brushed her hair and stuffed it inside a fresh coif, put her mantle on over the whole lot and, feet inside her sandals, unlocked her door and went out.

  The first person she met along the corridor was the lay-woman who had first conducted her to her chamber. Now, catching sight of Hildegard, she exclaimed, ‘Oh, my dear lady, you gave me such a shock. I thought everyone had gone outside in the excitement.’

  ‘What excitement?’ asked Hildegard with less enthusiasm than seemed to be expected.

  ‘Why, the picking up of fish from the upper meadow, of course!’She explained. ‘The stream is still blocked and has flooded out over its banks taking the fish with it. The poor things are flapping about in the grass. The cook is throwing a fit because he can’t keep them all unless they’re salted and he’s saying who wants salted fish in mid-summer? I thought you’d be down there with everyone else.’

  ‘They want help? All right. It must be later than I think.’

  ‘Just before Prime, domina. It’s not all that late.’

  ‘So they haven’t managed to unblock the fish trap yet?’ she asked as she went step by step down the narrow stairs to the outside door.

  ‘They resolve to get it done this morning even if, as master kitchener says, they have to put saltpetre down there – and blow up half the abbey, if you ask me.’ With her arms full of freshly laundered sheets she bustled away.

  Hildegard found her way to the infirmary first. Hubert was sitting up already looking spry. His hair was neatly combed. He had on a clean shirt. His leg had a fresh bandage. There was a cup and an empty plate beside him.

  ‘You seem to want for nothing, my lord,’ she greeted, taking all this in at a glance.

  ‘As you see.’

  ‘Who did all this?’

  ‘Our friend Friar Hywel.’ He nodded towards the end of the row of empty beds to where Hywel was bending over Mistress Beata with a beaker of something in his hand.

  Hildegard gave a sharp intake of breath. Had he found out that his ‘thief’ was the wife of Master John?

  Hywel turned at that moment and gazed down the long ward that separated them and as if drawn by a chain came slowly towards her. His face wore a familiar expression, as blank as a wooden mask. She could not tell whether he knew the truth, whether he had guessed it or whether he had scried it by some magical means of his own. She could only stare.

  He came to within a few feet of where she stood. Still he had not uttered a word. She held out her hand. ‘Is this something for Mistress Beata?’

  He looke
d confused as if she had started speaking in tongues.

  ‘The beaker. Is it for Beata?’

  Coming to himself he muttered, ‘Oh, this. Yes. Here...take it if you wish.’ As he handed it to her his fingers grazed her own and he jerked back as if stung. The contents spilled to the floor and spread in a pool between their feet. One of the lay-brothers, having seen what had happened, came over.

  ‘No matter, brother. Let me deal with this. Will you need more? I can run over to your cell to fetch it?’

  Hywel stared at him for a moment as if trying to place him then shook his head. ‘That’ll do for her.’

  Hildegard walked self-consciously down the ward, aware of his glance following her until she reached Beata lying propped in her bed.She held the beaker but did not hand it to her. This will do for her.

  Beata pretended to take it then whispered, ‘I shall not drink this at present, Hildegard. No need to tell Brother Hywel.’ She gave her a meaningful look. ‘Give him this.’ Crunching something she had extracted from her gown she pressed it into Hildegard’s palm. It was a small piece of parchment. ‘It is the price. Dear Alaric has told me everything.’

  When Hildegard went back to Hubert, to her relief Hywel had left. Hubert gave her a piercing glance.

  ‘So? What was all that about?’

  ‘You may as well know at once, I had the most extraordinary night last night,’ she told him.

  ‘It has been busy here as well,’ he replied.

  ‘Alaric?’

  He smiled. ‘I lost count of Beata’s visitors. I don’t know why people imagine that just because one is lying down one becomes deaf, but there it is.’

  ‘What shall we do?’

  ‘It is hardly our concern. We’ve fulfilled our promise to Abbot Philip. There is no murderer to apprehend. It’s for him to deal with this loss of his in his own way. I would not welcome visitors to my abbey interfering in our affairs. I suggest you go and help the fisher folk in the meadow,’ he gave her the smile that always threatened to break her heart. ‘You look exhausted, sweeting. Go and get some fresh air then come back and tell me we can have fresh fish again.’