by Alys Clare
It was stalemate and neither Helewise nor Martin saw any way to break it. Meanwhile the team of stonemasons sat idle in the camp they had erected down in the vale and, as everyone knew, the devil had a habit of finding mischief for men with time on their hands.
In due course mischief arrived. Two days after the arrival of the masons, a badly wounded man wrapped in a bloodstained cloak was found at the abbey gates by the porteress when she went to open up after the first office of the day. The cloak was wet with dew and the man’s hands so icy to the touch that at first Sister Ursel thought he was dead. Sister Martha, hurrying over from the stables on hearing the porteress’s cry, bent down, put her cheek to the man’s lips and said, ‘He’s breathing. Come, Ursel, we must take him to the infirmary before he bleeds to death.’
Sister Euphemia, busy organizing the early morning round of patient care, told the two nuns to put the man in the curtained-off recess at the end of the long ward. Summoning Sister Caliste, she stripped him, washed off the blood and inspected his wounds. He had been savagely attacked; there were blows to the forehead and left cheek, cuts and bruises to the shoulders and chest, and a deep slashing wound across the throat. Although this had bled copiously, Sister Euphemia discovered that no major vessel had been damaged; she watched as Sister Caliste neatly stitched the wound and then she prepared a dressing soaked in comfrey and diluted lavender oil and covered it up.
The man remained unconscious for most of the day. As the sun set, his eyelids fluttered open and he gave a hoarse cry. While Sister Caliste tried to calm his extreme agitation, Sister Euphemia hurried to find the abbess.
‘I am Abbess Helewise and you are safe in Hawkenlye Abbey,’ Helewise said, bending over the man a few moments later. He was, she noticed in a quick assessment, in his middle years, lean-faced and wiry, with greying light brown hair and hazel eyes set in a face whose lines indicated that he was more inclined to happiness than misery.
He stared up at her. ‘How long have I been here?’
‘You were found outside the gates this morning. You were wounded but the infirmarer and her nurse have tended you and they believe you will live.’ She smiled.
‘My throat hurts,’ he said. Raising a hand, his fingers encountered the soft dressing. His face crumpled and he whispered, ‘I thought I was going to die!’
Sister Caliste gave him a few sips of a greenish-coloured drink and after a moment or two his eyes closed.
‘I will leave him to sleep,’ Helewise whispered, ‘and not bother him with questions until—’
The man’s hand shot out and he grasped her sleeve. ‘No!’ he croaked. ‘I must tell you, my lady abbess, for there is such danger and I am so afraid!’ He struggled as if trying to get up, but as soon as his head was off the flat pillow his face paled and he moaned, ‘Oh, but I’m so dizzy!’
Sister Euphemia gently but firmly pushed him down again. ‘You have lost a lot of blood,’ she said. ‘Lie flat and still, and let us heal you.’
He gave her an ironic smile. ‘It seems I have little choice,’ he said. ‘But there are things I must tell you, my lady –’ he turned his eyes to Helewise – ‘terrible things, and the evil is right here . . .’ His eyes closed.
Helewise looked enquiringly at the infirmarer. ‘He’s rambling,’ Sister Euphemia whispered, ‘probably doesn’t know what he’s saying. I dare say there’s a bit of fever in his blood and he’ll—’
The man’s eyes were open once more. ‘It is a secret, my lady,’ he whispered, ‘a black, dark secret that was discovered by the Thirteen Knights long ago and far away. They knew its vast importance and they swore an oath to protect it. Thirteen, you see – the magic number that is the sum of moons in the year. There must always be thirteen and each one nominates his successor, so that as one dies the next takes his place and the company of the Knights of Arcturus is always complete.’ He stopped, for the effort of speaking had made him gasp for breath. Sister Caliste offered more of the drink but he pushed her hand away; perhaps, Helewise thought, he realizes that it is a sedative and will take no more until his tale is told, although the great effort hardly seemed worth it when he was talking such incomprehensible nonsense.
‘I was summoned in my turn, my lady,’ he went on, grasping her hand in a painful grip, ‘but it was odd, for the call came not from my old uncle, to whom I was close, but from another of the thirteen. My uncle did send me a message, but it was not the summons I expected when I learned he was dying. I could not understand it – I do not understand it even now – for my uncle sent me a note that was encrypted in a code only he and I knew, and he told me to stay away. Now what, dear lady, am I to make of that?’
Perhaps nothing, Helewise thought compassionately, for you are sick and probably have no idea what you are saying. In the morning, all this will seem like a bad dream and we shall find out what really happened to you. ‘Try not to distress yourself,’ she said soothingly. ‘Drink the medicine that Sister Caliste has prepared, for it will help you to sleep and ease your pain. Tomorrow we shall speak again and I—’
‘Tomorrow may be too late!’ the man cried, his voice breaking. ‘I cannot . . . I cannot . . .’
The strong herbs were having their effect at last. As the infirmarer, Sister Caliste and Helewise watched, his eyelids drooped, the desperate tension in his face relaxed, and he seemed to slump down in his bed.
Sister Euphemia said softly, ‘That’s more like it. He’s stopped fighting now and he’ll sleep till morning, which will give his body time to start healing itself.’ She smoothed the crisp linen sheet over the man’s chest, now rising and falling with the long, steady breaths of deep sleep. ‘We’ll look after him, my lady,’ she added, ‘and I’ll send word when he’s ready to talk to you.’
‘Thank you, Sister Euphemia. Well done –’ she addressed Sister Caliste – ‘you have provided the rest that he so badly needed.’
Then she turned her back on the infirmary’s worrying but intriguing new patient and went back to her room to return to the vexing question of the new chapel.
Nine
In the mid-morning something else happened to push the problem of the chapel from her attention: Josse arrived and before him on the big horse sat his daughter.
Helewise, who had been on her way to the infirmary to see if the new patient was awake, saw them ride in and hurried over.
‘May I leave Horace here?’ Josse said after the most perfunctory of greetings.
‘Of course, but—’
Josse had slipped down from the saddle and was lowering Meggie to the ground. ‘Meggie, take Horace over there to the stables,’ he said to her, pointing. ‘He knows the way and he won’t be naughty.’
Meggie, Helewise observed, did not need that assurance. She seemed to have no fear of the big horse but, on the contrary, treated him with such easy familiarity that he might have been a pet puppy, though her head, with its brown curls, barely reached Horace’s broad chest.
Josse was whispering urgently and Helewise turned to listen. ‘She turned up all by herself at New Winnowlands yesterday afternoon,’ he said, ‘and I need to find out who brought her and where her mother is.’
‘Joanna is not in the forest?’
He hesitated. Then, ‘No. I last saw her in Chartres.’
In Chartres! Oh, why had he not mentioned it? Watching his face, in which the profound anxiety was all too readable, she realized that now was not the time to ask. ‘You’re going to speak to the Domina?’
‘I need to speak to one of them, but the Domina may be in Chartres too – they’re up to something there, something to do with the new cathedral. I can’t fathom it.’ He sounded both distressed and angry.
‘The important thing is that Meggie is safe with you,’ she said, and instantly saw from the sudden lightening of his expression that it was exactly the right thing.
‘Aye, so she is,’ he murmured. Then, with a quick smile, he held out his hand to Meggie, trotting back from the stables, and the two of them set o
ff for the forest.
Watching them, Helewise realized that she hadn’t had a chance to tell him about the wounded man in the infirmary. She would make sure to do so when they came back.
Josse and Meggie walked slowly down the forest tracks until they reached the clearing between the ancient, majestic oaks where Josse had encountered the forest people before. In the middle, standing quite still in a pool of sunlight as if she was waiting for him, was the Domina.
Meggie gave a cry of delight and ran up to her and the old woman’s severe expression relaxed into a smile. She bent down, hugged Meggie and whispered something. Meggie nodded vigorously and said, ‘Yes, yes, I am, thank you, lady.’
‘I asked her,’ the Domina said, straightening up as Josse approached, ‘if she is well and happy, and you heard the answer.’ She stared down at the child. ‘Indeed, I did not need to ask,’ she murmured, ‘for it is plain to see.’
Angry at what he read as a suggestion that his child might not be properly cared for by her own father, Josse said coldly, ‘She is my daughter and I love her. I would not leave her unattended in a courtyard and trust that no harm would come to her.’
‘We knew she was safe,’ the Domina replied mildly. ‘The abbess’s daughter-in-law was within; her own child was playing with Meggie.’
‘Why is she here?’ Josse demanded, in no way mollified by the Domina’s reasonable answer. ‘Why did Joanna send her home to me? I was in Chartres – I saw Joanna –’ or at least, he thought, I believe I did – ‘and she could have handed Meggie over to me then!’
The Domina regarded him steadily for some moments, Meggie, bored by the grown-up talk, had wandered away and was struggling to get up on to the branch of a birch tree. When the Domina finally spoke, it was not in answer to Josse’s question. ‘The spirit that has nurtured the world since its creation is retreating, Josse,’ she said. ‘Have you not perceived this? Men think with their heads and not their hearts, and they value material things to the exclusion of almost everything else. They build higher and more magnificently and say it is to the glory of God, but is it not rather to the glory of those who pay? Their great constructions shout out, “We have wealth,” not, “We believe,” and such a sentiment is not prompted by true faith.’
‘I . . .’ Josse was unsure how to reply. ‘Joanna said they – you – have to protect something at Chartres that is threatened. Is that what you mean?’
‘Yes. The spot where the cathedral stands in the Shining City was sacred to us long before the new religion spread from the East. We are and have always been willing to share it, for we understand that the priests are also profoundly moved by its power. They, however, seek to exclude us, and now it is only by acting furtively that we have any hope of adding our own contribution to this precious place. We will not be ignored, Josse; we also have something to offer.’
Rarely for the Domina, her emotion was showing on her face; Josse saw a definite flush spread over the pale cheeks. He gave her a chance to recover, then said, ‘Joanna implied something of the sort. She . . . I know she is powerful now, and I thought she meant that she and others of your people would . . .’ He did not know how to express it. ‘Well, that you’d leave something of your power there in the cathedral. There’s that maze thing – I wondered maybe if that would be a sort of focus for you.’
The Domina nodded. ‘Yes, it is an ancient symbol and the priests do not truly understand it. They are laying down the labyrinth because we have put it into their minds to do so, and they will accept our gift of the sacred plaque that is to be placed at the heart of the maze. They believe –’ there was a trace of scorn in her voice – ‘that the labyrinth is simply a symbol of the journey to their holy city. It is that, it’s true, but the labyrinth exists also on other levels that are far more profound. But,’ she added conclusively, ‘there is no need for any except us to know it.’
‘So Joanna is there adding her contribution,’ Josse said, returning to things closer to his understanding, ‘and when she has done so, she will come back.’ The Domina did not reply. ‘She’ll be back?’ Josse spoke louder and turned the words into a question.
Still the Domina did not at first reply. Then, chillingly, she said, ‘Something of her will return. As for Joanna herself, perhaps.’
Fear clutched Josse’s heart in a cold grip. ‘What do you mean?’ he whispered. ‘She must come back – her life is here. Her child is here.’ I am here, he might have added.
The Domina stared at him and he thought he saw sympathy in her deep eyes. ‘You love her, Josse, even though you do not begin to comprehend what she is. She in her turn loves you, although at present the task before her is so great that there is room in her heart and her mind for little else.’
‘But—’
She raised an imperious hand and stilled the protest. ‘This is what she was born for,’ she said. ‘Her birth was predicted, for her mother saw the future with unusual clarity and did what was necessary to protect the Great Spirit who inspires we who follow the old ways. Her mother gave up her bodily existence to ensure Joanna’s survival. Joanna herself may have to make the same sacrifice.’
‘Give up her bodily existence?’ he echoed in a horrified whisper. ‘What does that mean? She’ll die, like Mag Hobson did?’
The Domina sighed. ‘It is hard to explain, for you do not see very far into our world,’ she murmured. ‘Joanna’s mother – the woman you knew as Mag Hobson – is dead to the physical world, it is true, yet the elders of my people experience her in a different realm. It is this realm to which Joanna may progress if—’ She stopped. Then, in a whisper, ‘If it proves necessary.’
In that terrible moment Josse could only think of losing her. His mouth suddenly dry, he said, ‘Will I see her again? Will I be able to enter this different realm of yours?’
Compassion flooded the Domina’s old face. She said gently, ‘You may, Josse. You may.’
‘And Meggie?’
‘Oh, don’t worry about her.’ The Domina glanced across at Meggie in her birch tree and her expression softened. ‘Meggie is extraordinary. She can see and speak to her mother whenever she wishes to. Listen.’
Josse did so and presently he heard the sound of Meggie’s light voice deep in conversation with an invisible companion. ‘That’s . . . ? She’s talking to Joanna?’
‘Yes, I expect so,’ agreed the Domina.
Josse edged closer to Meggie and listened. ‘. . . and Josse’s house is really lovely because I have my own bed in my own room and, although I like our little hut in the forest too, I like being with Josse and I love the baby – he’s so sweet – and sometimes I . . .’
Josse had heard enough. Reeling, he turned back to the Domina.
But she had gone.
It was not easy to bring himself under control after such a succession of shocks, but Josse knew that for Meggie’s sake he must act normally and not show his dreadful fear. Swinging her down from her birch tree, he said brightly, ‘Come on, little one, the Domina’s gone now and it’s time to go back to the abbey.’
Meggie took his hand and they set off down the track. ‘She’s gone to find the others,’ Meggie said. ‘They’re all a bit worried because of what’s happening in the big new building and they need to reassure each other that it’ll be all right.’
God’s boots, Josse thought. Only six years old and she has the understanding of an adult. They walked along, Meggie now chattering happily about squirrels’ dreys and deer tracks, and Josse marvelled all over again at this extraordinary daughter of his. They always said she’d be one of their Great Ones, he thought. What he had learned in that brief time in the clearing indicated they were right.
They emerged from the forest just above the abbey, behind the spot where, had they known, Martin the mason wanted to build the new chapel. Suddenly Meggie gave a surprised cry and, pulling her hand from Josse’s, ran off to stand at the base of an oak tree. She was jumping up and down, trying to reach its lowest branch. ‘Josse, help me!’ sh
e called, turning to look at him. ‘I can’t get up by myself.’
He hurried over to her. It was a huge tree and he was not at all sure that it would be safe for her to climb. She was fearless and would go right to the top if nobody stopped her. ‘It’s a very big tree, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘Why not try a smaller one?’
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, becoming frustrated. ‘I don’t want to go high – only up to there.’ She pointed.
He followed the line of her finger and, resting at the place where a branch about two men’s height from the ground left the trunk, he saw a small bundle. ‘I’ll get it,’ he said.
‘I saw it first!’ Meggie protested.
‘I’ll get it,’ he repeated more firmly.
Meggie stuck out her lower lip. He swung up to the lowest branch, hauled himself up and put his foot on the branch above. Standing up and stretching, he got his fingers round the object. For a startled, disbelieving moment, he almost thought it sent a shock wave through him. Don’t be fanciful, he ordered himself. The object was wrapped in soft cloth. It felt hard and it was about the length of his forearm and the width of his two fists. Clutching it, he climbed carefully down again.
He kneeled and placed the object on the ground in front of him. Meggie was right beside him; he could feel her warm breath on his neck. ‘What is it, Daddy?’ she asked excitedly.