“This is Charlie Baillie.” He nodded to the man next to him. “He also serves the bishop.”
The young man appeared nervous upon his horse, his eyes shifting about. Viola nodded. “And you are?”
He jumped from his horse, removed his hat, then gave a deep bow. “Dunbrek. Malcolm Dunbrek at your service.”
“Well, Master Dunbrek, I have two letters I wish delivered. One is for the bishop and the other for the Queen. These must be delivered in haste.” She handed him two of the letters.
Charlie took the letters and placed them in his doublet. “We must deliver a letter to the Pope, then we will promptly return to Scotland. Malcolm will take your letter to the bishop, and I your letter to the Queen, if that would be acceptable?”
“Yes, yes. Of course. Be sure to hand them directly. Do not trust their advisors, for I fear they may not be true of heart.”
“Of course, my lady.”
Viola flinched. Either the young man was showing respect or the bishop had spoken to him of her. It had to be the former, not the latter. The bishop wouldn’t discuss private business with his courier, no matter how loyal he was.
“And, Frederick,” she said, handing the third folded piece of parchment to the boy, “it is imperative this is received by your uncle.”
Frederick’s face lit up. He bowed to her as Charlie had. “I will not fail.”
One day, Viola thought. That boy will become more than a peasant or a sword for hire like his uncle.
The men looked past her. She turned around to see Isabella approaching. “I must go. I bid you safe journey and Godspeed.”
She walked back into the confines of the convent and didn’t turn around when she heard the hooves fade or the latch of the heavy gates close. She passed Isabella without a glance. Now that her messages were sent, she had sealed her own fate—which did not consist of bowing down to other’s orders. In a few short weeks, she would be free of the convent and Isabella’s hatred.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Similar to each morning of the past year, Viola walked along the wall. The day before, Frederick had sent a message that Loys would be making his way back to Nantes, gathering men along the way. There was no news of her brother or his demise. Now that she’d secured Loy’s price, he’d have no choice but to find and remove James from this earth.
She threw her message, tucked inside the small leather bag, back over the wall near the lilac tree. It simply read: Inform me of his arrival.
Any day now, Master Dunbrek would be returning from Scotland with the bishop’s response. She was excited to leave, but she couldn’t ease the sickness in her stomach when she thought the bishop would take her as Andry had taken Bonne years before.
Before prayer, Viola would try the doors to the storage cellar. With luck, someone would have left it unlocked. She picked up her pace and made her way inside the main entrance and down the staircase only to be confronted by Claire, who was on her knees, scrubbing the floor at the threshold of the last room.
“Novice Viola. What brings you here? Are you ill?” she whispered.
Viola tried to think of an excuse for being there, but none came to mind.
Claire glanced at the entryway to the storage cellar. “It is locked.”
How did she know? She’d never revealed her thoughts since she’d spoken with the mistress of the novices all those months ago. And how did Claire know that the door was locked? This girl was more mischievous than Viola realized.
Claire sat back on her legs. “What is it you seek?”
So, the girl didn’t know everything.
Claire picked up the brush and returned to scrubbing the floor. “If you wish to keep your secrets to yourself, I have no objection.”
Viola had already made inquiry with the other sisters about the medallion; what harm could it do to ask one more time? She was, after all, leaving shortly. Just as soon as Master Dunbrek returned.
“I wish to know more about King Henry’s success when he sailed to Mill Bay.”
“You heard the tale then?”
Viola nodded.
“I doubt you wish to know more about the battle.” Claire paused then her eyes lit up. “You wish to know more of the medallion. You believe if you can find this trinket, it will assist your Queen.”
Viola realized she had said too much. She was about to walk away when Claire laughed.
“Have you an idea of what it looks like?”
“Yes, I have a drawing.”
Claire reached out her hand. “Let me see it.”
Viola glance around. No one was in their presence. She was not about to expose herself. She walked inside the room and closed the door. There, she lifted her skirt and fumbled with her mother’s prayer bag, pulling out the only letter from Loys she kept and handed it to Claire.
Claire scrutinized the image. “You will not find it here, in France. That much I do know. I am certain it would be no bigger than the palm of my hand. Made of gold.”
Viola looked over Claire’s shoulder. She hadn’t looked at it in a long time.
“I believe it would be in England, if it has not been melted down.”
“It is possible Elizabeth has it in her possession.”
“Doubtful.” Claire handed her back the image. “Think, now, Viola. Put the history of your country into play.”
Viola had no idea what Claire meant. She stared at the drawing, then turned the parchment in a circle.
“Henry possessed this when he took the throne. His second son, Henry, became King. Then his son, Edward. By this time, the medallion would have been forgotten. After all, Henry the Eighth feared magic as much as he feared the plague. It would not have been passed down. It has either been melted down, stuck in the royal vaults, given as a gift, or stolen. You will never discover its location here.”
“If it was a gift or stolen, whomever is in possession of the medallion would have power equivalent to Queen Elizabeth.” There were many who the false queen trusted and had kept close in her circle. She thought of those she knew. None, other than William Cecil, had moved up the ranks so quickly. And she’d been out of touch. She wondered if it were someone else. Viola sighed and folded up the page, about to return it to the prayer bag, when Claire spoke again.
“For all we know, it is in the possession of a sorcerer.”
Viola froze. Quickly, she opened it again and stared at it, imagining the size of the trinket, in gold. That was the reason it looked familiar to her when she first had received Loy’s letter. A smile formed on her face. She was certain of it. It couldn’t be anywhere else but in the Forest of a Thousand Whispers. Had she known then what she knew now, she could have been in Scotland with this magical medallion in her possession. Curse the witch, she thought, for not bringing this to my attention sooner. Damn Alexander Dohetry for refusing my hand. All of those who had deceived me will pay. Especially my brother. I will have my revenge.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Someone screamed outside Viola’s window. She peeked out. Dozens of women were racing toward the buildings. She heard one call out that there were armed men at the wall. Viola caught her breath. Was this the war Claire had mentioned? Had the Huguenots decided to invade the convent? Where were the police, the militia Claire spoke of? She crossed herself.
If the Protestants were to break through the gates, how would they protect themselves? During her studies, she’d heard of unholy men attacking and raping women, keeping them as slaves, as plunder. She would not subject herself to such an assault. She needed to protect herself, but with what? They had no weapons—none she knew of.
Claire burst into her room. “You have a visitor, or I should say, many visitors. I doubt Mother Superior will be happy with the ruckus they have caused.”
Viola lifted her brow. Many visitors? Who would be visiting if they were being attacked?
“I would say at least a hundred or more men stand outside the gates. They have requested your presence.”
It wasn’t
an attack. It had to be Loys and his men. “Of course.” She smoothed out her skirt and checked her scapular for any loose hairs that may have escaped. Then she followed Claire to the main gates. She wondered why he hadn’t sent a message that morning, informing her of his arrival. And Master Dunbrek had yet to arrive. He was long overdue. It had been over two months since he delivered the bishop’s letters.
Horace stood at the locked gates holding a pitchfork. Viola shook her head. Though his actions were commendable, she knew that, had this been a real attack, he would have been slain before he could prick one shoulder.
“If you would please open the gates, Horace.”
He shook his head. Fear in his eyes.
Viola sighed, then called out. “Who approaches?”
“’Tis Loys de la Veue.” She heard someone arguing with him. “And Dominic Windham. We wish to speak with Sister Viola.” There was more commotion on the other side. “No! Be still! I will not announce the lot of you.”
Viola smiled. Loys had acquired the services of Windham. This was indeed good news, if Windham had the reputation Loys spoke of. “Horace, open the gates or I shall. They mean no harm. Had they wanted to attack, they would have already penetrated.”
With great reluctance, Horace unlatched the gate and Claire helped him to open it, since he wouldn’t set down his pitchfork.
Viola spotted Loys immediately. He stood with his hands on his belt, long sword at his side, chewing on a twig. With a smile he said, “Bonjour, bella.”
“Good day, Loys. What brings you here?”
“This is Master Windham.”
The man standing next to him was taller, his hair neatly cut, with a thick scar over his left cheek.
Dominic took a step forward and bowed. “A pleasure to meet you.”
She nodded. “As you.” She turned to Loys. “I have yet to receive news from the bishop.” It was best to tell him immediately and not prolong the meeting. She could only imagine what Sister Isabella was telling Mother Superior.
“Do you mean from him?” Loys pointed behind him and several men stepped aside. Malcom Dunbrek stood in the middle of the men with a smirk on his face. He then bowed before he approached.
She glanced at Loys. “You captured him?”
Loys laughed. “Captured. Guarded. It matters not. He is here, safe.”
“But how?”
Frederick moved to the front and waved at her. When he noticed the men stare, his face fell and he hid his hand behind his back.
“Little Frederick, you have my gratitude. Without you, these men would not have found Master Dunbrek and brought him safely to me.”
With her words, the young man straightened his shoulders and tipped his chin. He looked like a younger, thinner version of his uncle.
Master Dunbrek bowed again. “Lady Viola. I bring a letter from the bishop and news which may distress you.”
She stepped toward the courier and lowered her voice. “Tell me.”
“The Scots are searching for a way to incriminate the Queen Mary for her deceased and deceitful husband Lord Darnley’s demise. Furthermore, my sources report Charlie Baillie, my friend, and, you will recall, courier to the Bishop of Ross, failed to reach the border. He was seized by rebels near the Maycott Estate. Nothing was found on him other than a letter from Earl Maycott to the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Howard. We believe the letter was left at the Maycott Estate. The men who searched Baillie did not know from whence he hailed. They were searching for an English spy, not a Scotsman.”
“Where is Baillie?”
Dunbrek kept his head bowed. “I fear he has disappeared.”
“My correspondence must be found.”
“The bishop has sent men to investigate, but has few whom he can spare.”
For three long years, Viola thought, I have been instructed to obey, pray and have faith. Elizabeth was behind this; or if not the false queen, then her man Cecil. God cannot right the wrong of the pretender queen without assistance. I will not allow what has taken years to achieve to be destroyed by an ignorant agent of the Pope.
She lifted her chin. “You have correspondence?”
He handed her a thin letter. “We can secure passage on a ship this night and leave by morn. I wait for your instruction.”
A familiar voice from behind called out. “Novice Viola! Step back inside these walls this instant! You men! By all that is holy, leave this place and find another place to ask God to release you of your sins!”
Dunbrek leaned forward. “Is that the abbess?”
“Yes,” Viola whispered.
He walked directly up to her and bowed. “Mother Superior, I have a letter from the Bishop of Ross. I was instructed to deliver it into your hands and your hands alone.”
The abbess took the letter. “You needed this many men to deliver one letter?”
Dunbrek raised his voice for the men to hear. “Of course. Did you not know these roads are filled with thieves? Murderers? The lowest of the low? These men escorted me safely to these gates to fulfill the bishop’s wishes.”
The men laughed.
The abbess snorted and waved her hands. “Your letter has been delivered. Go. Go now.”
“Of course. I bid you good day.” He bowed, then several other men bowed. Before Viola realized it, all of the men bowed and began walking backward, calling out “good day” or “God bless you”.
Loys touched her arm. “We leave at first light?”
“Yes. Secure the ships and prepare the men. I will meet you here before daybreak.”
“Novice Viola!”
She turned. The abbess was reading her letter. “Come to my chambers.” She began walking across the yard.
Viola watched the men walk away. Frederick turned and waved to her again. She would miss this young man. Surely, Loys would not allow him to travel to Scotland to become part of a military campaign.
Here she stood outside the gates of the convent, and if the letter the abbess received relieved her of her vows, she would no longer be bound by those inside. She took a deep breath. She now needed to prepare for her journey and say her goodbyes.
***
Slowly, Viola made her way to the abbess’ chambers. Though Viola wanted to rip open the letter, it was meant for her eyes only. She knocked on the door.
“Enter.”
She turned the handle.
The abbess was alone, sitting behind her desk. “I believe you know the reason I requested to speak with you.”
Viola stood silently.
“When will you depart?”
“At first light.”
She stood and paced. “From the day you arrived, I had such high hopes for you. But your spirit could not be broken, not with scrubbing pots or taking to the gardens. It appears you have a higher calling.” She stopped and picked up her letter. “The bishop is quite taken with you. He feels your abilities would serve him better in Scotland assisting Queen Mary than here.” She set the letter down. “And like the first day that you arrived, your face does not reveal your feelings. You would have made a good abbess had you chosen to stay.”
Viola held her hands tighter. She wasn’t about to tell Mother Superior what she truly thought about her rule. She only needed one more night in the convent, but the woman could ask her to leave immediately without saying goodbye.
“Sister Lucia and Sister Anne will surely miss you.” She sat down. “You should know that the boy you saved is strong and healthy.”
Viola’s eyes widened.
“Ah, there now. It appears I can derive a response from you. That day I feared you had run off. I had planned to confine you to your cell for a week with only bread and water. When Sister Lucia came to your defense, I knew you had left for good reason. Later that eve, she told all. You see, there is no one whom I trust more within these walls than Sister Lucia for I have known her all my life—she is my cousin.”
A breath caught in her throat. It was no wonder Lucia didn’t fear Isabella. Viola had to ask.
“Why was the mother not punished?”
“She was not punished because I do not know who the mother was. For none who knows has revealed her name.” She winked at Viola. “Do you wish to tell me?”
“No. I know nothing.” Even though Isabella had a hold over the girl, Viola would keep Bonne’s secret. She would not have her cast out.
“Then I will continue to send money and food to the family, as the child is a gift from God.”
Just then, Isabella barged into the room. She sneered at Viola. “Why is she here?”
Mother Superior raised her voice. “These are my chambers Sister Isabella, and you will respect those with whom I wish to speak.” She pointed to a chair. “If you would please take a seat, I will speak with you momentarily.”
Isabella glanced at the abbess, then at Viola, and sat down.
“As I was saying, I believe you could have had a good life here.”
Isabella jumped up. “Could have? She is leaving?” The abbess calmly nodded. “She cannot! She must take her vows! Her father promised to pay if she takes her vows!”
“Sister Isabella, I asked you to take a seat. There is more in this life than the money we receive.”
“But...”
A knock at the door interrupted Isabella.
“Come,” The abbess called out.
Claire peeked in the room. “Mother Superior, you called for me?”
“Yes, Claire. Please close the door.”
Claire closed the door and looked around the room.
“I have spoken to several of the sisters and some on the council. If it is your wish, we would like to consider you to become a permanent part of our home. Do you wish to take your vows and become a bride of Christ?”
Isabella jumped up again. “I was not consulted! She cannot take her vows! She has no dowry and is nothing more than a peasant searching for a safe haven!”
“Sister Isabella! I had hoped to speak with you alone, but I tire of your manners. Claire is no less than you were when you arrived. And look where your opportunity has brought you, though not as far as you may have wished.” She picked up the letter on her desk again. “It appears the bishop had sent several letters to Viola, some of which were not received. Could you please explain to me why these were not delivered?”
A Perilous Beginning (The Pearl Heirloom Collection Book 4) Page 14