The mistress sighed and began to replace the books that Viola tossed onto the floor. “I commend you on your desire to learn; however, you will not find those books here. I will procure one for you.”
Viola lifted a brow. “There are more books?”
“Of course. Those rarely used are stored below in the storage cellar. If you would be so gracious as to make your presence known during lesson on the morrow, I will have one ready for you.”
She reached down, picked up a small stack of books and replaced them on the shelves. If the mistress of the novices was good to her word, Viola might find what she was searching for.
* * *
A book was lying on the table where Viola sat during her lesson. The Year Book of Henry VII. Viola skimmed through the pages. This was a book on court cases during his reign, not how he defeated King Richard and took the throne.
She looked out the window, barely listening to the lecture on obedience. She’d had heard it before, or at least something similar. She watched for a courier, but, the only movement outside the window was Lucia escorting a visitor across the grounds to the back of the manor house.
Viola turned her attention to the mistress of the novices and nodded, giving the impression that she was, indeed, listening. The last thing she wanted was to appear disinterested; she didn’t want to scrub floors again. She needed to visit the storage cellar.
The first opportunity that Viola had, she found her way down the stairs to the infirmary. The entrance of another staircase, at the end of the corridor, was marked with a beautifully carved archway of stone. The few times that she’d been here, she hadn’t given it a second thought.
She tiptoed down the last few steps to the landing next to the infirmary and heard a woman’s voice, pleading, “You must help me. I cannot bear to do this anymore.”
Sister Lucia replied. “No. I cannot.”
“Cannot or will not?”
“I cannot. I do not possess the knowledge or the skill to do as you ask. Even if I did, I could not.”
“I do not believe I can go through this again. I have already lost two children. My husband believes I am cursed, for each child I bear dies within weeks of birth.”
“Here. Take this when you get home. It will help.”
“It will help me to bear another child?”
“No. It will help you rest. I believe rest is what you need.”
There was a long pause. “My thanks, Sister Lucia.”
“It is all I can do.”
Viola backed away from the door and, as quietly as she could, made her way to the end of the corridor to the stone archway leading to the storage cellar. Lucia did not possess any magical powers; she was only a healer. But what Viola sought had power, enough to change the progression of the world.
Just before she passed the last door, used for quarantine, the one in which she found Andry and the sisters, she realized that she couldn’t descend the dark staircase without a candle. She opened the door and slipped inside.
On a small table sat a candle and a tinderbox. She smiled and set to lighting the flame.
The old door was left unlatched and creaked when Viola pushed it open. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark room, with only a candle to guide her.
The room was large and orderly, filled with more items than she’d seen in a long time. Trunks stacked on top of each other lined one wall. A half-dozen cupboards stood edge-to-edge, next to them. She opened one. It was filled with tattered dresses with the buttons ripped off, worn undergarments, and old shoes. No clothing which held any value. Viola knew that the convent had already sold any clothing of value to a second-hand shop in town.
Tables stood in the middle of the room, covered with an array of items: candle holders, wooden crates of broken dishes, baskets filled with remnants of fabric. She picked up a handful; it appeared that they kept even the smallest of scraps. A glimmer in the basket from the candlelight caught her attention. She reached into the basket and pulled out her mother’s prayer bag. It was still intact. Viola pulled it close and closed her eyes. She whispered, “I will succeed, Mother, as I promised.”
She opened her eyes and wiped a tear away. At the back of the cellar were shelves lined with books. Her father had many books in his library, but nothing compared to this. Viola didn’t know where to start. Some were bound in dark leather, some in thick sheets of wood. On the floor were several crates filled with scrolls. She ran her finger across the edges, then found an empty space where a book had been removed. Was this where The Year Book of Henry VII had been stored?
She removed the book next to the space; it was, indeed, another book, about England. Viola sat down on the floor and thumbed through the pages. It spoke of Henry I. She set it aside and pulled out another. This one spoke of Richards III’s rein and Henry VII’s securing the throne, but did not mention the medallion. One by one, Viola thumbed through the books. Nothing.
It would take days, even weeks, to go through all these books. She froze; she could just barely hear the bells toll for prayer. As quickly as she could, she replaced the book and picked up her mother’s prayer bag and candle. She couldn’t take the bag to prayer, nor did she want to leave it. Before she made it to the doorway, she turned around, and picked up a long, thin, piece of fabric from a basket and tied the bag to her leg. She would keep it with her, forever.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Viola walked the perimeter of the convent walls earlier than she had in the past few months. She could feel her mother’s prayer bag brush against her leg. She’d secured it around her waist with the long remnant of fabric under her tunic.
Today, she had no interest in sitting with the women in the tapestry room. Their constant whispering irritated her.
Inside her sleeve, she carried a letter to Loys that she’d penned last night regarding the medallion. Loys was her best chance at finding more information about the tell-tale. After all, he would have the ability to speak with the outside world whereas she was locked in here. She scanned the ground for a note from Frederick. She didn’t want to toss hers over the wall unless Frederick had sent her one first. There was no telling who was on the other side.
She found a message tied to a rock, lying on the grass near the lilac tree. Quickly, she picked it up and untied the twine. James had been spotted in Spain. Loys planned to leave immediately. She bound her own letter with the twine and tossed it over the wall.
With luck, Loys would find James and dispose of him. Viola took a deep breath. She missed the sweet scent that the lilac tree produced when it was in bloom.
If she hurried, she could visit the cellar before prayer. She opened the door to the main entrance. It barely closed before Bonne caught her sleeve and fell to the floor. She yanked her sleeve back from Bonne’s grasp and peered down at her under her lashes.
“Please, Novice Viola. Help me.”
Viola looked around the corridor; they were alone. No one was present to assist this girl. She sighed. “What is it you would have me do?”
“Please. Take me to the infirmary. I cannot make it on my own.”
“Let me find someone to assist.”
“No.” The girl grabbed Viola’s sleeve and then curled her body, her face crunched in pain.
Viola tried to take a step back. She did not want to become ill, but the girl had ahold of her sleeve.
As fast as Bonne’s pain started, it ended. “Please, Novice Viola.” She gasped. “No one can know.”
“Know about what?”
“I cannot say.”
With great reluctance, Viola helped the girl to stand and put her arm around her shoulders and assisted her to the infirmary at a slow, steady pace.
Sister Lucia shot Viola a dirty look. “What are you doing here?”
“Bonne is ill.” Viola stepped into the room with Bonnie behind her.
“Oh, dear,” she quickly stepped to help Viola with Bonne.
With Lucia’s help they got Bonne to the bed. She was pantin
g and grabbed her belly again.
“The child is coming,” Lucia whispered.
“The child?”
She nodded. “Viola, set the cauldron in the fire. You must assist me.
“I?” She looked around the room. “Surely another could be summoned.”
She rolled her eyes. “There is no one else. The time is now. The babe will not wait.”
Bonne screamed. Viola froze. “She is a novice; how is it she is with child?”
“Do not be naive, Viola.”
“But...”
Lucia gave her a harsh look. “You understand more about this world than you let on. You are more than a spoiled noble woman whose father cast you out. We cannot locate anyone else. If Isabella and her followers discover this occurring here, there will be hell to pay... for all of us. At the moment, we serve a higher calling. We need to work together, lest we lose the girl and the child.”
Viola nodded. “Tell me what you need of me.”
Lucia smiled. “Set the cauldron on the fire. The water needs to be hot, then, fill the bucket.”
Viola stepped over to the hearth, rolled up her sleeves, and removed the letter she’d received from Loys. She glanced back at Lucia who was busy with Bonne, then tossed the parchment into the fire.
The labor was harsh. The babe came out crying and Lucia went to the bucket of water to wipe the blood off. Bonne squeezed Viola’s hand. “Please,” she whispered. “Do not let my babe perish.”
“The child is fine. And you will be a good mother.” Viola didn’t know what else to say to comfort the woman. She was reminded of her own mother when she fell ill.
“She will not keep the child. Have you seen any other children walk these halls, other than those whose parents abandon them? At least those are taken away and placed at a founding home.”
“Please.” She tugged on Viola’s arm. “Protect my babe.” She closed her eyes.
“Lucia! Bonne!”
Lucia placed the babe in Viola’s arms. She was taken back. The child was tiny, his lungs fierce. Viola rocked the babe in her arms as she had seen done at market. The babe quieted down.
“I fear she has lost a lot of blood. Pray she will not leave us.”
“What shall happen to the child.”
Sister Lucia shrugged. “There is no place for the child here. It would be best if you never speak of this again.” She tried to take the babe away.
“No. Tell me.”
“I can easily take its breath away. After all, it is not alive until its baptized.”
“No. There must be another way. Someone who would take the child and raise it as their own.”
“There is no one.”
Viola remembered the woman who had arrived days earlier. “Yes. There is a way. The woman who visited you several days ago. She begged you to give her a child. You can entrust this child for her to raise.”
“How do you know of this?”
“It matters not how I know. It matters that I know. If you take the child to her, she can raise it as her own.”
“No, I cannot.”
“Cannot or will not?”
She sighed. “I cannot.” She pointed at Bonne who was barely breathing, lying in bed. Her eyes lit up and she walked over to a cabinet against the wall. “But you can.”
“Impossible. I do not know where this woman lives.”
“Horace will drive you.”
“I will be missed at prayer,” Viola snapped back. She didn’t want to be sent to the kitchens again.
“I will have you excused.”
“What excuse will you give?”
Lucia turned and handed Viola a pouch. “These are herbs that the woman needs to rest. Her name is Madeleine. If anyone asks, you are to deliver her medication.” She handed her another pouch. “These are a few coins that I have received. Take this to the family. They will need to hire a wet nurse.”
Viola looked down. She held more money than she had in a very long time. This money could gain her passage to England, or at least hire several couriers to deliver letters to the Queen.
Lucia wrapped the child in a blanket. “I am entrusting the future of this child to you. You must do exactly as I say and all will be well. Be advised, Isabella must not know of what you are about to do.”
Viola nodded. “Of course.”
Less than an hour later, Viola met Horace outside the infirmary door. He had the wagon hitched and he placed a rug over Viola’s legs to keep her warm. She cuddled the child close to her bosom to protect him from the cool winter mist. The ride was short; she was thankful that the cottage was on the outskirts of town and the ruts in the road hadn’t slowed them. She carefully climbed down from the wagon and Horace handed her the babe. She walked up to the front door and knocked.
A man opened the door. His worn clothing was that of a poor farmer. His eyes went wide and then he crossed himself. “Sister.”
“No. I am only a novice.”
He bowed his head. “My apologies...”
“I seek your wife, Madeleine. Is she home?”
He stepped back and beckoned Viola into the one-room cottage. The woman whom Viola had overheard at the convent sat at a table, her eyes red and sullen.
Viola knelt down in front of her and placed a bundle in her arms. Madeleine looked at her and then down. She lifted the cloth. A smile reached her lips.
“This is now your child. Give him a good life.”
Viola stood up and walked to the front door. She handed the two pouches Lucia had given her to the husband and walked out the door.
“Novice.” He darted out of the home. “God has surely heard our prayers.”
It wasn’t God who heard their prayers, Viola thought; it was I. She climbed into the carriage.
* * *
Viola’s mind drifted with the bouncing of the carriage. She could have kept the money and disappeared. Of course, Horace would have searched for her, but a sense of relief filled her. Bonne’s son would live and the family’s prayers had, however inadvertently, been answered. For a brief moment, she wondered who the father was. Then she remembered: Andry, the carpenter. The man she had planned to hire to take her letter to Scotland. Frederick didn’t realize how correctly he had pegged that man. And surely, Viola pondered, if Andry knew about the child, he wouldn’t have tried to have Bonne released from the convent. No, he would have run, leaving Bonne to raise the child alone. But she couldn’t have the child; she was on the path to become a nun. That is, if she survived. Bonne deserved to be punished for her sins, but Viola didn’t think her sin deserved death.
They reached the gates where Anne was pacing.
“Novice, Viola. The abbess has requested your presence the moment you return.”
Surely, she couldn’t be in much trouble for taking medication to the needy, unless, Lucia broke her promise.... Viola followed her into the house and into the abbess’s office.
Isabella stood behind the abbess, her eyes narrowed.
Mother Superior straightened her desk. When she finished, she clasped her hands in front of her. “Novice Viola, it appears you have left the premises without permission.”
A smirk covered Isabella’s lips.
Viola tipped her chin and didn’t respond. What could she say? She was sworn to silence, but Lucia had lied, and she was an accomplice. Either Viola would deal with the punishment or she would let Bonne’s secret be known and an even harsher punishment would await.
Sister Lucia burst into the room. Her voice echoed through the chambers. “Viola. There you are. How fares mistress Madeleine?” She curtsied. “My pardon, Mother Superior. Viola ran an errand for me.”
“An errand?”
“I was tending to Novice Bonne when I received word that Mistress Madeleine, a woman I had been treating, needed medication. I sent Viola in my stead.”
Mother Superior raised her brow. “Why did you not send Sister Dauphine or Sister Collette? They have permission to leave the grounds.”
“My apo
logies, Mother Superior. Viola brought Novice Bonne to me and I received word that Madeleine needed assistance as well. Everyone was in prayer. There was no time. Bonne was on the verge of death and needed my attentions.”
“How is she now?”
“She is resting.”
“Next time, Viola, you will be the one to inform me. I do not take your disobedience lightly. However, since you have taken a sudden interest in the infirmary, you shall assist Sister Lucia for one month. If you do, indeed, have a knack for healing, we may have found where you would fit in best.”
This was a reward rather than a penitence and Isabella knew it. Viola watched her smirk turn into a frown.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Viola crushed a handful of herbs with a white-marble pestle and mortar while Lucia gathered supplies and placed them on the table next to an open book of cures. This time, Lucia was instructing her in how to prepare a salve for Sister Judith, who had burned herself in the kitchens... again.
There were worse places to be stuck for a month than in the infirmary, Viola mused. Though Lucia had her scrubbing floors and tending to the herb garden, she was also teaching Viola her craft. Months ago, when Viola had feared the snake attack would fail, she wondered how she could obtain more knowledge of poisons, and now Lucia was having her create remedies. Each day after her chores her mind was full and her hands, tired.
Sister Lucia was more pleasant than Viola had previously thought, but Viola quickly found, that Sister Lucia took to her tasks with a furious flare. With Viola’s assistance, Lucia organized her tables and placed the bottles onto the shelves of instruments and ingredients in an order that only Lucia understood. Viola took special care to memorize not only their uses, but their appearances, scents, placement, and containments.
Viola glanced up. Isabella stood near the doorway, glancing about.
Lucia set a bowl down. “What brings you here, Sister Isabella?” Viola could hear the forced pleasantry in Lucia’s voice.
Isabella said nothing and walked over to an open book on the table.
A Perilous Beginning (The Pearl Heirloom Collection Book 4) Page 9