by Mary Bale
‘I thought Sister Ethelburga was the obvious choice to succeed.’
‘She was equal really with Sister Winifred, but Sister Winifred had Prioress Ursula’s favour. As soon as we’d buried Sister Ann as Prioress Ursula…’ Agnes looked down. ‘I’m sorry. I am still carrying the guilt for such a sacrilege – but we did not know what else to do.’ Her eyes were pleading with Therese. ‘Anyway,’ she continued, pulling herself straight. ‘Sister Ethelburga took Bishop Odo aside and told him her version of events. As soon as she was given the keys she locked up the sewing room and had it thoroughly cleaned.’
‘So she removed the evidence of the fight between Prioress Ursula and the Impostor? So,’ deduced Therese, ‘she could have created the story about Prioress Ursula to hide the person who had passed the key on to the Impostor?’
‘I may not like Prioress Ethelburga, but I do not think she is like that. The sewing could not have been restarted in a room in that condition.’ Sister Agnes stood up. ‘Now if that is all, Sister Therese, I would like some sleep before our next session in church.’
‘I’m sorry, Sister Agnes. I have had to offend you. Otherwise I could not have known exactly how you feel. I did not really come here to examine you in this way. I just did not know whether I could trust you or not.’
‘And do you?’
‘I wish I could. I want to trust you. But you and Prioress Ursula and Alfred are all connected and to trust one I have to trust all of you and possibly Michael the merchant from Montgomery too. And he is gone. And he has left me a boy to care for.'
Agnes was already by the door lifting the latch. She dropped it, and it fell back into its holder. ‘A boy?’
‘A six year old boy. He is harmless and I have hidden him, but he needs food and I need you for that.’
‘Someone you don’t wholly trust?’
‘I know, I know. I have to trust you.’
‘Even though you don’t want to have to?’
‘Yes.’
‘I will leave him some food under a pot in the kitchen yard each day.’
‘Thank you, thank you,’ said Therese catching her arm.
‘Mind you, I don’t want to know where he is or anything else for that matter.’
‘You won’t.’ Therese followed Agnes to the door.
‘And in the mean time I will see if I can find him somewhere else to live.’
‘Thank you, Sister Agnes.’
‘And I think you ought to know that Michael the merchant and his group were arrested by Bishop Odo. One of the servants told me. I personally have had nothing to do with the Welshman, and have no intention of doing so. I have only ever seen him speak to Prioress Ethelburga and Sister Hilda since the incident.’
‘What about before then?’
‘When Prioress Ursula was here she spoke to him, of course. But so did Sister Winifred and Sister Sybil as well as the two I’ve just mentioned.’
‘Prioress Ethelburga and Sister Hilda?’
‘Yes.’
Therese squeezed Agnes’s hand and kissed her cheek.
‘That’ll do,’ said Agnes. ‘Your young blood is up. Now calm down or someone’ll guess you’ve got something to hide.’ As Therese settled herself Agnes continued. ‘I must also tell you that Alfred of St Edmundsbury was arrested with Michael the Merchant.’
The excess of energy dispersed and Therese felt her mouth drop open, then she shut it firmly before saying, ‘Abbess Eleanor will find someone else to take my messages to her. She will know of this, and she is the one person I can trust.’
‘You are determined to carry on here?’ asked Agnes. ‘You don’t have to, you know?’
‘I am determined to stay, Sister Agnes.’
‘You are young. The young do not know of danger.’
* * *
Therese kept her head down in the chapter house the next morning. She was exhausted from seeing to Eric over-night. The food, some porridge, had been there as Sister Agnes promised, but it was nearly impossible to keep him quiet and allow him to exercise. Her neck seemed to be without strength and she had to avoid anyone seeing her eyes. She did have so much to conceal.
Prioress Ethelburga called her name. Therese jumped. The day’s duties must already have been allocated to the others, she was last on the list and closest to the door. The others were all looking at her.
‘Sister Therese,’ repeated the Prioress, her pasty skin blotching slightly with temper. ‘I wish you to go into the garden today and help Sisters Winifred, Aelfgyth and Leofgyth. You are looking pale. I think the fresh air will do you good.’
They slid from their places and as she filed out with her fellow nuns she found herself next to Leofgyth, who whispered, ‘What have you done to get kicked out of the sewing room?’
Therese frowned. Could Prioress Ethelburga have seen her working out the size of the sewing room? Did she suspect her of spying? She turned and watched the Prioress march away, her skirts rustling. There was no way to tell.
‘There is much planting to do,’ said Sister Winifred as the party of gardeners reached the fresh air. Therese could see small white marks on her already tanned face. These vanished when she smiled as she did now. She must always be smiling for the sun to miss those places, thought Therese, and she returned the smile. ‘But the young plants must be cared for as we care for all young things. So I will leave you with Sister Leofgyth to hoe along these rows here in the middle of the garden, while Sister Aelfgyth and I will be over there, down the bottom end, setting bean seeds. Call me if you need me.’
Therese dropped her smile at the reference to looking after the young and wondered if Sister Winifred knew about Eric. But she nodded as innocently as she could and a moment later Leofgyth was talking.
‘She doesn’t mind us chatting as long as we get on with our work,’ she said. ‘I think she and Sister Aelfgyth like to talk too. Anyway we’re far enough away from anybody not to be heard.’
The garden was located behind the dorter, chapter house and infirmary. At the southern end there was a large barn with doors that stood open to air the building after the long winter. She could just see that the doors were open on the other side of the barn. Where the garden was not enclosed by buildings there was a high stone wall. Fat doves sat sunning themselves in the small arches of the dovecot in front of the barn.
The two older nuns were clearly talking as they went down the garden towards the barn with the tall Sister Winifred stooped over the much shorter Sister Aelfgyth.
‘I’ve given up minding about not being allowed to work in the sewing room,’ said Leofgyth. ‘I’m proud of the work I’ve already done on the other panels.’
‘We nuns aren’t allowed to be proud,’ said Therese. ‘It is a sin.’ She drew her hoe back and pushed it forward over the dry soil.
‘They are all proud,’ said Leofgyth waving her hand as if showing Therese the whole world.
‘Who?’ asked Therese.
‘The Bishops and Priests, the Abbots, the Priors, the Prioresses et al. A humble churchman? I’ve not found one. And why should they be? In a country where every other year there is famine they always have enough to eat. They have power over the laity, which they use and say it is in the name of God. It has nothing to do with God.’
‘But the monasteries look after the sick and the poor,’ Therese pointed out.
‘And this place makes expensive embroideries for a conqueror.’
‘You cannot be proud of your work, but angry that it is done.’ Therese stopped work and leaned on her hoe.
‘Perhaps you are right,’ said Leofgyth, ‘but it’s the way I feel.’
‘Do the others feel as you do?’
‘I don’t know. Sister Hilda is always tight-lipped, but since Prioress Ursula died she has been given a lot of responsibilities that used to be Sister Winifred’s.’
‘Is Sister Winifred suspected of being involved with what happened? Is that why she’s been put on gardening duties?’ Therese looked at her companion. She had hardly not
iced the change in the conversation from the general to the specific information she was seeking. She started hoeing again, before she attracted attention to herself.
‘I don’t think so,’ replied Leofgyth. ‘Sister Aelfgyth said it was for her health. She’d worked so hard on the sewing her eyes were sore.’
‘So why has Sister Hilda been promoted, then?’
‘That’s what we’d like to know. I suspect she comes from a good family with influence. They’ve probably endowed the priory with funds. That’s the usual reason.’ Leofgyth stopped and leaned on her hoe and stared at Therese. Therese kept hoeing and Leofgyth returned to it when they saw Sister Aelfgyth straighten up and look at them.
‘What do you know of the others?’ asked Therese. It was normal enough to want to know about your new community. Surely, Leofgyth would not think the enquiry strange?
The young nun launched into the subject with vigour: ‘Mabel and Maude are sisters by birth, twins in fact, but not identical. They’re loyal to each other and inseparable. They barely communicate with the rest of us.’ Leofgyth was flushed with the pleasure of telling the new girl all.
They finished hoeing their rows and started on the next two.
‘And Sister Sybil?’ asked Therese.
‘She’s all right, I suppose. She’s another one from old Anglo-Saxon aristocracy. The families sent their daughters to the church so they wouldn’t have to marry Normans.’ Leofgyth looked up from her hoeing. ‘No disrespect intended.’
Therese nodded, but said nothing of her own Anglo-Saxon origins.
‘Anyway,’ continued Leofgyth, ‘her family lost their lands to the Normans so they’ve lost their influence.’
‘And Sister Beatrice?’
Leofgyth smiled. ‘She’s beautiful inside and out. She’s our guardian angel on Earth. She has patience and kindness beyond that which is human. We all love her. She is so easy to love.’
‘So,’ said Therese, as casually as she could, ‘who was in the sewing room the day Prioress Ursula died?’
‘You know of that?’
‘Everyone knows of it.’
Leofgyth accepted this with a nod. ‘I was there. It was my turn to help by threading needles and the like. Prioress Ursula was keen to get the work finished so Sisters Winifred and Aelfgyth were working on one end with Sisters Sybil and Hilda on the other. Sister Ethelburga and Prioress Ursula worked the middle section. Sister Beatrice was in the infirmary with a cold and the twins were over-seeing the servants feeding and cleaning the animals over-wintering in the barn.’ Leofgyth paused for breath and her face changed. She clearly remembered Prioress Ethelburga’s warning against talking to Therese about the sewing room. ‘Anyway,’ she added, ‘that all happened before you came here, so why do you need to know all that?’
‘Just curiosity,’ said Therese. Her hoe barely paused.
‘I can get into trouble for telling you.’
‘I won’t tell on you, if you don’t tell on me,’ said Therese. She fixed Leofgyth with an earnest gaze. Leofgyth was just like Sister Miriam at home. She would prefer to keep an indiscretion a secret than have to proceed with a burdensome penance.
‘Hmm,’ said Leofgyth in reluctant agreement. ‘It’s time to take a short break. We normally sit by the barn.’
The sheep and cattle had left the barn for the pastures around the priory and only the odd wisp of winter hay and straw remained. Sister Aelfgyth was gathering eggs from the dove-cot. The other two sat on the ground and leaned against the barn wall. It was shady and sheltered. The women relaxed and Therese joined them.
Resting was easy, but she thought she might not be able to rise at the end of the break. This is where Sisters Mabel and Maude had been the day of the incident in the sewing room. Therese looked up towards the priory. They would have seen nothing of the events that day. Their view of the tower was blocked by the chapter house, infirmary and dorter. Her eyes closed. ‘Just a few moments,’ she muttered as she felt herself slip away into slumber.
* * *
‘Wake up, Sister Therese. You must wake up!’ Leofgyth’s voice was a penetrating shriek. Therese stirred and stared at her waker.
Chapter 11
Eleanor stopped her pony at the gate of Dover castle. Her small retinue of a guard and a servant from St Augustine’s had stayed with her overnight just outside Dover in modest lodgings. She hadn’t wanted the scrutiny that would accompany an evening at Dover Castle.
And the castle guard was looking at her now. She announced with quiet authority who she was and that she was here to see the Earl of Kent, Bishop Odon de Bayeux. She was clearly expected as they readily let her in. As her pony carefully brought his rider to the yard in front of the castle keep she realised how difficult it would be to plead for Alfred. He was an old friend as was Ursula. Whatever she said she would be betraying a trust to her Bishop. Nevertheless, she decided that if the opportunity arose she would try. A house guard accompanied her up the steps of the keep and opened the Bishop’s door for her.
He was by the window looking down into the courtyard. ‘How is my little Therese?’ he asked.
‘Well, Your Grace.’
‘She isn’t with you? I thought she would come too.’
Eleanor felt sweat break out on her brow. ‘I have left her in a priory near Canterbury, Your Grace.’
‘Not St Thomas the Apostle, I hope.’
‘Would I do such a thing?’ Eleanor smiled. Was that a lie? She hoped not.
‘What does she think of her homeland?’
‘She is very excited about it.’
‘Good, good. And do you think she will take her final vows and fully enter the service of the church?’
‘I don’t know yet. If she does not, her future would be very uncertain. But she has such a wild side to her nature. Her zest for life may be too great for the confines of a monastic life.’
‘There is no hurry. I will not rush her,’ said Bishop Odon. ‘Now let us take a seat. We must discuss your investigations. Who are your suspects?’
‘I have come across various possibilities. The obvious one is an Anglo-Saxon group.’
‘The same group Prioress Ursula was involved in?’
‘She may not have been involved.’
‘She was the one with the key to the room. The feeling among the nuns there was that she was involved.’
‘You mean the new Prioress Ethelburga thinks she was involved.’
‘I find her loyal to the Normans.’
‘And I am Norman, or have you forgotten?’ Eleanor felt slightly disgusted at him accepting Ethelburga’s word so readily, almost in preference to her own views especially as she was the woman’s superior. Back in Normandy she had had an open mind, but now that she’d seen Ursula alive and well, how could she doubt her innocence?
‘I am sure of the Anglo-Saxon plot,’ said Odon. ‘I know there has been complicity with the Welsh.’
‘So you have arrested them. I have heard. It is difficult to condemn people who have been friends. And I have also heard that there are political pressures on our highest people, and these are muddying the waters.’
‘Speak plainly, Abbess.’ He stood. He spread his feet and placed his fists on his hips.
‘There is conflict between yourself and Archbishop Lanfranc.’
‘If you mean I am not a monk, then that is clear for all to see. I make no apology for that. But there is no conflict; we are both men of the church. You can’t be accusing me, so you must be accusing the Archbishop of Canterbury!’
‘I know that sounds beyond reason but…’
‘No buts, Abbess.’ She could see that he considered this the end of that particular area of enquiry.
She cleared her mental list of that one and started on the next doubt that nagged at her. ‘You give support to your nephew, Robert de Curthose, while the Archbishop supports Prince Rufus for King of England when the Conqueror dies.’
‘This has nothing to do with the embroidery,’ said Odon. ‘It i
s of no concern of yours.’
‘You have made this my concern. This is another of my possibilities. I have come back here to England after many years and I find people fear you – a man of the church.’
‘I have had to govern this country as king, while the King is away. I have had to quell rebellions on the Conqueror’s behalf. This is not going to make me popular, nor does it give me credit with the church, but as you see I am an Earl and the King’s half-brother. I have no choice in the matter. I have not called you here to listen to my confession.’
Surely he could express some useful opinions! She persisted, ‘But Robert de Curthose is in the same position in Normandy. He is the eldest son. He is angry at his father’s lack of trust in him. He might not want his father to be honoured by this embroidery.’
‘He would not do such a thing.’ He was clearly adamant.
‘Because of his friendship with you? If he is a true Norman warrior he will do whatever it takes to succeed.’
‘Enough!’ roared Odon. His pale face flushed crimson. He appeared to check himself and the colour faded. He spoke through tightened lips; ‘Rest assured if Robert has been involved, there will be no more trouble from him.’
Eleanor felt herself dismissed and yet she had not told him of Prince Rufus and how little she trusted him, nor had she had the opportunity to plead for Alfred’s freedom. But this was clearly not the time to broach the subject. She would have to be satisfied with Odon’s promise regarding Robert de Curthose. Clearly only proof of the true culprits would be enough to satisfy him and for him to release Alfred. She bowed and left. She could not wait for the Bishop to be in a better mood, she would have to return to Canterbury.
* * *
During noon prayers Therese scrutinised each of the community that had been in the sewing room when the Impostor had struck. Her nap, she discovered, had been sanctioned by Sister Winifred. Her fellow sister’s urgency in waking her had been nothing more than to prevent lateness for prayers. The sleep had left her much brighter and made her see all the nuns as good women. Their heads were bowed and their faces smooth with contemplation. She had to tell herself quite firmly that one of these people was not as innocent as they looked, if Ursula was to be believed.