“Master Ridolfi,” she began, “if you truly intend to visit the Bishop of Ross, would you deliver a letter on my behalf?”
From the corner of her eye, she could see the abbess’s jaw drop and eyes widen. The investor smiled.
“Of course, it would be my pleasure. However, I do leave at first light.”
She nodded. “Of course, I will have it ready before you depart.”
He glanced at the abbess and she smiled. “This is most generous of you, Master Ridolfi.”
“It is a small request, Mother Superior, and one easily fulfilled, since I intend to visit anyway.”
The abbess nodded to Viola. “That will be all.”
Viola took her leave. When she closed the door, she almost went to the room next door to eavesdrop. But if she were to have a letter prepared by morning, she needed to return to her room immediately; otherwise, she would receive a penance for burning her candle down while writing in the middle of the night.
The next morning, Viola had her letter ready and stood by the door, waiting for Master Ridolfi.
Isabella walked up to her. “Novice Viola, should you not be attending to your duties this morn?”
“I am waiting for Master Ridolfi to depart.”
“Ah, the letter Mother Superior spoke of. Give it here and I will see that he receives it.”
Viola clutched the letter tightly in her hand. “I believe Mother Superior knows I am here. She did not disagree last eve when we spoke of it.”
“She requested I intervene. You, after all, did not return to the kitchens last eve.”
“Again, Mother Superior had knowledge of this.” Or at least, she had not told Viola to return to the kitchens.
“Come, we will speak with her together.”
Viola could tell that Isabella was becoming frustrated with her stubbornness. “I do believe there will be no need. For here they come.”
Isabella turned. Mother Superior and Master Ridolfi were walking down the corridor. When they were close enough, Viola spoke up before she was acknowledged. “Good morn, Master Ridolfi.” She handed him the letter. “I appreciate your kindness. Please give the bishop my regards.”
The investor smiled. “Of course, novice. I will deliver it to him personally.” He tucked the letter into his doublet.
Both Mother Superior and Isabella grimaced.
Viola conveyed her sweetest smile. “I best tend to my duties. Have a pleasant journey.” Viola walked away, feeling, for the first time in years, that she was finally in control of her own life.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It had been almost a year since the Bishop of Ross had graced them with his presence. And though several letters had been sent, there had been no response—at least none she knew of.
It had become common practice for Viola to walk the grounds before morning prayer. On the occasion when an early rain prevented her from doing so, she would wait until the weather cleared and leave, abruptly, unhindered by whomever she was working under that day. Mother Superior continued to assign her a new task each week, unlike the others, to whom she only assigned duties every three months.
Today it had rained, and Viola wandered around the grounds, not wanting to rejoin the others still inside, working. She liked the smell of rain. It meant she would be alone.
There was very little news from Loys. Before the Christmas festivities, he’d found another commission, but promised to keep searching for James. She hadn’t heard from him since. Frederick, on the other hand, had written. The boy’s writing had improved. He told her about catching a rabbit for supper, watching the ships dock, an errand he ran for a merchant.
Again today, there was no letter. Across the courtyard, Horace opened the gates. She quickened her pace.
A young girl limped through the gates, holding a tattered cloak tightly around herself and dragging a bag behind her. She wasn’t a courier. Viola slowed her step. She must be a worthless wench searching for a safe haven, Viola thought. Not worth her time.
Still, there was something familiar about her manner, and the way she spoke to Horace. He was smiling—and blushing. She’d never seen him in such a state. The girl turned around and Viola froze. It was Claire.
Viola hesitated. Before she could make the decision to retreat, Claire caught her eye and waved.
Damn, Viola thought to herself. Now she felt obligated to speak with her. Anne, of course, would be relieved. As far as Viola knew, no one had heard from her since she left. Viola walked toward Claire and Horace. The girl looked thinner, her cheeks sunken in, like a fish. She held on to Horace as they slowly rounded the main entrance.
The bells tolled. Viola sighed. If she had a choice, she’d much rather see what had befallen Claire. Viola turned and watched the sisters filter into the chapel. Was this how she was to spend the rest of her days? The thought did not please her. But the sight of Anne, when she heard the news, would. She quickened her step to catch up.
“Sister Anne.” She leaned over and whispered, “Claire has returned.”
Anne crossed herself then squeezed Viola’s hand. “My prayers have been answered.”
It wouldn’t be long before Isabella discovered she had returned. Viola took pleasure in the knowing of Claire’s return before Isabella did.
When they broke their fast at morning meal, Viola eavesdropped on the whispering women, who revealed that Horace had taken Claire to Lucia. They speculated as to the reasons why she had returned. Some felt she had lost her way and come home. Viola would not speculate. She would discover the real reason why Claire had returned and, more importantly, discover if the girl had truly delivered the letters with which Viola had entrusted her. Viola quickly made her way down the stairs to the infirmary.
Lucia had Claire lying on one of the small beds, covered by a thin sheet. She was pale. Lucia lifted her to take a drink from a bowl. Viola recognized the sweet mixture of nettle, dandelion, and honey, a remedy of sorts, lingering in the air.
“How do you feel?” Lucia asked.
“I would feel better had I not drunk.”
Lucia laughed. “It appears you have a visitor.”
Claire sat up straighter. “Good day, Novice Viola. Or have you taken your vows?”
“I have yet to be accepted.”
She smiled. “Your letters were delivered as you requested. I was certain the bishop would have granted his blessing.”
Viola took a deep breath. She had every reason to believe that Claire had them sent, but now it was confirmed. She would no longer wonder. “I fear I have not received a response.”
“You did hear the Bishop of Ross died and a new bishop was appointed?”
“Yes. In fact, he visited last summer.”
“And he did not dissolve your vows?”
Viola shrugged. She was not about to go into detail about the bishop’s visit. She still wondered if she had made the right decision. Of course, she had. She wouldn’t give herself to a man simply for a promise. It would take much more.
Isabella burst into the room, her eyes crossed. Isabella rounded the table, inspecting the contents of the bottles. Claire rolled her eyes. After a few minutes, Isabella stepped over to the cot.
Claire nodded. “Good day, Sister Isabella.”
“Claire.” Isabella paused. “Do not think that upon your returned your station shall be reinstated. Not all welcome you with open arms.” She turned on her heel and walk out of the room.
Lucia shook her head. “Does she not possess Christian values?”
“You know better than to wonder,” Claire answered. “I need to speak with Mother Superior. I have much news to share.”
“Now is not the time, Claire. You must rest. Let Sister Isabella make her report. Eventually, the abbess will make her way here to inquire about your health. Then you may speak with her. Viola, would you sit with her for a time? I have a remedy to deliver to Sister Judith.”
“Of course.”
Once Lucia left the infirmary, Claire waved h
er over. “Come closer, Viola. I have news.”
Viola sat on the bed next to Claire. “We do not hear much news of the world, unless it is useless gossip.”
“What I have to say is not useless. Several weeks ago, news reached us. Lord Darnley was murdered. There was an explosion and the next day they found his body beside a pear tree in the garden, covered only by his nightshirt.”
“What of the Queen?”
“She was across the city with her babe.”
A breath caught in Viola’s throat. “She has a child?”
“Yes. A healthy son named James.”
Viola began to pace. This was good news. The Queen had a son, an heir. Darnley would no longer influence the Queen. The child must be kept safe. And now the Earl of Moray must be disposed of in order for the Queen to execute her power over the Scots. She needed to write the Queen. “I will return.”
“There is more,” Claire called out before Viola made it to the door. “The Queen’s adversaries have accused the Earl of Brothwell and the Queen herself of Lord Darnley’s murder.”
Viola sank onto the straw mattress. Why hadn’t the bishop contacted her? Had she been there, this would not have happened, she was certain of it. “Is this the reason that you returned? To give me this news?”
Claire rolled her hands. “I thought of writing a letter, but I knew Sister Isabella would not allow the news to reach you, had you been here. There is even more. The truce that Catherine de Medici mediated with the Huguenots appears to be breaking. There is unrest with the Protestants and some speak of an uprising. I fear another war will occur. Have you not seen the increase of police and militia in the city?”
“I have not been outside these walls in a year.” She wondered why Frederick or Loys hadn’t written her of this. Did they not think this was important?
“The price of food has gone up, especially grain. Some cannot afford to feed their families. Because of this, my employer released me and my sister could not provide for me. That is the reason I returned.”
They had had bread each day with their meal. Viola hadn’t really noticed that their portions were not as large as they once had been, until now. “You must keep this news to yourself until you speak directly with Mother Superior. Certainly, Sister Isabella would use this information for her own purposes, though I could not imagine how.”
“Agreed.” There was a long pause before Claire continued. “How is Sister Anne? I have prayed for her.”
Viola smiled. “Sister Anne is well and has prayed for you. She was delighted to hear of your return.”
“That is good. And what of...”
Bonne barged into the infirmary. Viola jumped from the bed.
“There you are, Novice Viola,” she panted. “A man at the front gates. Sister Isabella. Is beside herself. Threatening. To call. On Mother Superior. Come now.”
“Novice Bonne,” Viola said, holding her voice firm, “do not speak to me with half sentences. Either tell me all or tell me nothing. And do not demand my presence.”
Bonne composed herself. “A courier has arrived at the front gates. He has requested to speak with you and will not relay his message to Sister Isabella. He swore to stand firm until you have been summoned, which has angered Sister Isabella. I was told to fetch you.”
“Who is this man?”
“He refused to give his name.”
Claire nodded for her to take her leave. “I will rest while you attend to the courier. Sister Lucia will return momentarily.”
Viola gave her a smile and a quick nod before she followed Bonne out the door and to the front gates. Her skirt whipped around her legs at the brisk pace. A man, several years younger than Viola, leaned against the gate. She was surprised that the abbess had arrived; she was standing her ground to make certain that he did not cross the boundary. Viola wanted to laugh; he did not appear to be a threat, judging by his relaxed posture. A small crowd had appeared to watch the display.
Sister Isabella creased her brow at Viola. “This young man refuses to leave until he has delivered a letter to you. I offered to accept the letter; however, he again refused. He is quite determined he places it in your hands.”
Accept it, indeed, Viola thought. Not once had Isabella delivered any correspondence to Viola.
“Are you Novice Viola?” The young man asked.
“Yes.”
He reached into his satchel, pulled out a folded piece of parchment, and handed it to Viola. She caressed the unfamiliar seal pressed into the red wax. “The Bishop of Ross requested I hand this directly to you.”
Viola could not contain her surprise. She watched as the courier glanced at the abbess with a snicker on his face. “I am to wait for a response before I leave for Rome. I have another letter for the Pope.”
Viola nodded. She did not want to open the letter in front of all of these women. “When will you be departing?”
“On the morrow. If it pleases you, I could return in the morn before I depart.”
“Yes, that would be acceptable.”
The man nodded and turned from the gate. He walked down the dirt road toward the city.
Isabella stepped up to her. “Are you not going to break the seal? Why would the Bishop of Ross pen a letter to you?”
Viola creased her brow. “I am certain, if he wanted you to know the contents, he would have addressed the letter to you.” She turned and walked away.
In the confines of her cell, Viola broke the seal. The letter was written in the same code she’d given him to give to the Queen. With haste, she decoded the letter with the cipher she had memorized. The tone of his letter was hurried.
My most esteemed Lady Viola
It is my hope this letter finds you well and in good health. I have written on several occasions and pondered the reasoning behind your silence. Thus, I have entrusted my most loyal courier to deliver this into your hands. My Queen is in dire need of an army to fight for her cause. If your men would take up arms, I would gladly provide them coin for their journey along with the letter of passage you requested on their behalf. As for you, my offer stands. Come to Scotland and assist me in placing our Queen on the throne of England.
It was unsigned. Between the letter and the information Claire had revealed that day, it appeared the Queen and Scotland needed her more now than ever. The Queen and her son needed protection if she were to secure Scotland and then gain the English throne. Only then would the true religion reign across the country, and then, perhaps, the world.
Viola placed the letter in her sleeve and went to the kitchens. She tossed it into the fire and watched the parchment slowly burn until it was ash.
The bell rang for terce. For the first time, it was music to her ears. It would give her time to think and pray. The sisters filtered into the chapel.
As the priest began to recite a psalm, Viola stared at the crucifix above the altar. Jesus sacrificed his life for his people and his father. Could she sacrifice her virginity for the true heir to the throne? She didn’t want to ponder the inevitable. Somehow she knew it would happen, unless she could convince the bishop another way. He would free her of her vows, but he wanted her to return to Scotland, not England.
Loys knew men who believed in their cause. He was to the north, and it would take time for a message to reach him and for him to gather his men. In the meantime, she needed to continue her search and discover more about the medallion.
After sect and the midday meal, Viola rushed to her cell. There were three letters to write. She opened the door. Her room was in disarray. The bedding was strewn across the room, her chair tipped over, and again, her mother’s prayer book lay open on the floor. Ink from her ink jar soaked the blank parchment on her desk and the quill was broken into two pieces. The insolence of that woman! Couldn’t Isabella leave well enough alone? Why did she think it was her responsibility to know all that goes on in the convent?
With a quick hand, Viola did her best to straighten up the room. She tore the section of ruined
parchment and prepared to write with the broken quill. She would not beg for more supplies. Her script would need to be neat and small. Each word precise, each sentence straight-forward. There was no room for pleasantries. It took hours to complete the three letters. When she was satisfied and the ink had dried, she folded them up and placed them into her mother’s prayer bag under her skirt. When the watch sisters came around to light the candles, then she would seal them. She knew that Isabella would be watching her every move.
Well before the bells tolled for morning prayer, Viola set out with the letters in hand. Horace saw her across the courtyard and opened the gates. The courier hadn’t arrived. She clutched the letters tightly. Frederick had the leather bag they used to throw messages across the way. She wasn’t sure how she would manage to get him the letter. Simply tossing one over the wall would not be wise. She feared Isabella discovering her letter more than she did a commoner.
In the distance she spotted two men on horseback with another walking next to them. Did the bishop’s courier determine assistance would be needed to speak with her? She didn’t doubt it, considering Isabella’s behavior the previous day. As they came closer, Viola recognized the man walking. He wasn’t really a man, yet. But the boy had grown tall in the last year, since she had seen him sitting on top of the wall.
Frederick spotted her and waved, then took off at a run to greet her. “Sister! ’Tis good to see you.”
“Good morrow, Frederick. You have grown tall and into a striking young man.”
Frederick blushed and nervously removed his hat, clutching it in his hands.
The courier who delivered the message the day before rode up on a beautiful roan. “We came across this lad last eve. He said he knew you.”
“Yes.” Viola was not about to reveal how they knew each other and prayed that Frederick hadn’t told them. If they knew, then the bishop would go through Frederick rather than herself to gather her army of men. She would spend the rest of her days in this cage of stone.
A Perilous Beginning (The Pearl Heirloom Collection Book 4) Page 13