he paused and the young sister repeated it; at the very end Sister Fidelis triumphantly joined in the last line.
‘ O Dulcis! O Pia! Virgo Maria! ’
‘I sang it!’ she exclaimed. ‘I know it now. You won’t tell them, will you?’
Corbett turned to Ranulf. ‘Our lips are sealed, aren’t they?’
Ranulf just gaped and wondered, not for the first time, if the arrow which had struck his master in Oxford had damaged more than his chest bone.
‘Thank you.’ Sister Fidelis smiled. ‘I never can remember the words in choir, Lady Johanna is so hard. She beats my knuckles with a ferrule.’
She held up a white, delicate hand; nasty red bruises marred the knuckles. Corbett kissed her fingertips.
‘Such harshness is ill fitting,’ he murmured.
Sister Fidelis blushed and withdrew her hand.
‘So, you are awaiting Lady Madeleine. I tell you this, you’ll tarry a long while! Lady Madeleine loves to keep people waiting. Even Lord Henry, when he came here, had to kick his heels in the guest house.’ She paused. ‘And he paid generously to refurbish the shrine!’
‘Does the priory have many such noble visitors?’ Corbett queried.
‘Oh yes. The Prince of Wales came here.’
‘I didn’t know Prince Edward had a devotion to the St Hawisia?’ Corbett asked innocently.
‘Well, he has, he came in here. But I’m only a novice, sir,’ she trilled on. ‘Such comings and goings do not concern me.’
‘What comings and goings?’ Corbett quietly prayed that Lady Madeleine would indeed tarry a while, since this fresh-faced young novice seemed eager to chatter.
‘Lady Johanna shouldn’t hit me with a ferrule.’ Sister Fidelis sucked on her knuckles.
Corbett studied her intently. He wondered if the young lady had been placed here, not for any vocation but because she was slightly fey.
‘What were you saying?’ she asked.
‘You were going to tell me about strange comings and goings.’
‘Well, I am! Oh, sir, what is your name?’
‘Sir Hugh Corbett, I’m the King’s emissary.’
‘Well, you see, Sir Hugh, I often daydream, particularly in the refectory; I never finish my food! So, I’m given tasks, little punishments. I hate leaves!’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Ranulf asked.
‘Leaves,’ Sister Fidelis repeated. ‘Because I don’t eat my food quickly enough, when the other novices go to recreation, I have to sweep the yard. I’m given a thick, heavy apron which scores my neck and a broom that’s far too heavy. I’m told to sweep the cobbled yard which divides our refectory from Lady Madeleine’s house.’
‘I don’t like leaves either,’ Corbett told her. ‘And, I promise you, I’ll have a word with Lady Madeleine not to punish you so rigorously.’
‘Oh, would you, sir, and would you also mention Lady Johanna’s ferrule?’
‘For the love of God!’ Ranulf whispered.
‘The leaves?’ Corbett asked.
‘Well, one night, I think it was on the eve of St Matthew.’ Her fingers flew to her lips. ‘Or was it the feast of St Cornelius?’
‘You were sweeping leaves in the yard?’
‘Yes. I went into a corner when it was growing dark and no one would see me. I’d stolen a piece of marchpane from the refectory and my fingers were cold. Anyway, I ate the marchpane. I was very cross because the novices were in their house and all the other sisters were enjoying themselves. Suddenly.’ Her head came forward and Corbett nearly jumped. ‘Suddenly,’ she whispered hoarsely, ‘I saw a man, cowled and cloaked, cross the yard.’
‘You are sure it wasn’t one of the sisters?’ Corbett asked.
‘They don’t wear spurs which clink nor do they carry swords! They certainly don’t walk with a swagger. Anyway, he enters Lady Madeleine’s house. Oh, I say to myself, what goes on here? In he goes, just opens the door. Now downstairs is her own refectory and chambers; upstairs is her own bedchamber. No one ever goes up there! I put the broom down and stole across the yard. I looked
‘ O Dulcis! O Pia! Virgo Maria! ’
‘I sang it!’ she exclaimed. ‘I know it now. You won’t tell them, will you?’
Corbett turned to Ranulf. ‘Our lips are sealed, aren’t they?’
Ranulf just gaped and wondered, not for the first time, if the arrow which had struck his master in Oxford had damaged more than his chest bone.
‘Thank you.’ Sister Fidelis smiled. ‘I never can remember the words in choir, Lady Johanna is so hard. She beats my knuckles with a ferrule.’
She held up a white, delicate hand; nasty red bruises marred the knuckles. Corbett kissed her fingertips.
‘Such harshness is ill fitting,’ he murmured.
Sister Fidelis blushed and withdrew her hand.
‘So, you are awaiting Lady Madeleine. I tell you this, you’ll tarry a long while! Lady Madeleine loves to keep people waiting. Even Lord Henry, when he came here, had to kick his heels in the guest house.’ She paused. ‘And he paid generously to refurbish the shrine!’
‘Does the priory have many such noble visitors?’ Corbett queried.
‘Oh yes. The Prince of Wales came here.’
‘I didn’t know Prince Edward had a devotion to the St Hawisia?’ Corbett asked innocently.
‘Well, he has, he came in here. But I’m only a novice, sir,’ she trilled on. ‘Such comings and goings do not concern me.’
‘What comings and goings?’ Corbett quietly prayed that Lady Madeleine would indeed tarry a while, since this fresh-faced young novice seemed eager to chatter.
‘Lady Johanna shouldn’t hit me with a ferrule.’ Sister Fidelis sucked on her knuckles.
Corbett studied her intently. He wondered if the young lady had been placed here, not for any vocation but because she was slightly fey.
‘What were you saying?’ she asked.
‘You were going to tell me about strange comings and goings.’
‘Well, I am! Oh, sir, what is your name?’
‘Sir Hugh Corbett, I’m the King’s emissary.’
‘Well, you see, Sir Hugh, I often daydream, particularly in the refectory; I never finish my food! So, I’m given tasks, little punishments. I hate leaves!’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Ranulf asked.
‘Leaves,’ Sister Fidelis repeated. ‘Because I don’t eat my food quickly enough, when the other novices go to recreation, I have to sweep the yard. I’m given a thick, heavy apron which scores my neck and a broom that’s far too heavy. I’m told to sweep the cobbled yard which divides our refectory from Lady Madeleine’s house.’
‘I don’t like leaves either,’ Corbett told her. ‘And, I promise you, I’ll have a word with Lady Madeleine not to punish you so rigorously.’
‘Oh, would you, sir, and would you also mention Lady Johanna’s ferrule?’
‘For the love of God!’ Ranulf whispered.
‘The leaves?’ Corbett asked.
‘Well, one night, I think it was on the eve of St Matthew.’ Her fingers flew to her lips. ‘Or was it the feast of St Cornelius?’
‘You were sweeping leaves in the yard?’
‘Yes. I went into a corner when it was growing dark and no one would see me. I’d stolen a piece of marchpane from the refectory and my fingers were cold. Anyway, I ate the marchpane. I was very cross because the novices were in their house and all the other sisters were enjoying themselves. Suddenly.’ Her head came forward and Corbett nearly jumped. ‘Suddenly,’ she whispered hoarsely, ‘I saw a man, cowled and cloaked, cross the yard.’
‘You are sure it wasn’t one of the sisters?’ Corbett asked.
‘They don’t wear spurs which clink nor do they carry swords! They certainly don’t walk with a swagger. Anyway, he enters Lady Madeleine’s house. Oh, I say to myself, what goes on here? In he goes, just opens the door. Now downstairs is her own refectory and chambers; upstairs is her own bedchamber. No one ever goes up there! I put the broom down and stole across the yard. I looked
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