had slept and spread out his blanket. I no longer had my blanket, having given it to Morcar, so I made up the fire, banked it carefully with ash to make sure it stayed in till morning, then wrapped myself in my shawl, pulled the end of Sibert’s blanket up over my legs and closed my eyes.
I had not realized how exhausted I was. The next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes to daylight, sunshine was filtering through the cracks around the door and there were sounds of people stirring in the houses either side of me.
The new day was here.
I took advantage of being alone in the room. I heated water, stripped to my skin and washed, then quickly dressed again. I had spread my gown in front of the fire while I slept and now it was more or less dry. I combed out my hair and re-braided it, then I made myself sit down and eat some breakfast. The bread was dry, but I was so hungry that I barely noticed.
As soon as I had finished I set about my self-appointed task. I had remained in Ely to make the killers think Morcar was still there, being looked after by me; it was time to make a start. I tied a clean, white cap over my neatly braided hair and set off.
I knew where the apothecary’s shop was situated; I had spotted it as Sibert and I had searched for Morcar. Now I pretended to be the dullest-witted healer ever to walk the earth, asking again and again for directions and finally, with a flirtatious little smile, forcing a young merchant to walk me right up to the shop door. The more people that got to hear of the silly young healer who could not find her way, the better. From the apothecary I was careful to buy the ingredients I would have required to go on treating Morcar; I needed them in any case, having used up almost all of the supplies I had brought with me. Then I went up to the main gate of the abbey and, very meekly, asked if it were possible to speak to the infirmarer.
The monk at the gate said, ‘We do not permit the entry of lay women into the abbey save with special permission.’ He was a different type from the monk I had seen on my first day, a nicer, more charitable type, for he managed to put regret into the official words, and he looked at me quite kindly.
‘I see,’ I said, eyes cast modestly down. ‘I am sorry to have troubled you, brother.’ I gave a sad little sigh.
As I turned to leave he said, ‘Wait.’ I stopped. ‘What did you want with the infirmarer?’ he asked.
I risked a quick look up into his face. ‘I am nursing my sick cousin,’ I said. ‘He fell in the ditch and has a fever, and he also has a deep wound in his foot.’ That ought to be sufficient to describe Morcar, if anybody were interested. ‘I’m doing my best to treat him –’ quickly, I reeled off the standard remedies for fever and grave wounds – ‘but I wanted to ask someone with much, much more experience than I have if I’m doing right.’ I bit my lip, staring at my boots.
There was a pause. Then the monk said, ‘Wait here. I will send word.’
I waited. I wanted to cheer with jubilation, but I restrained the urge. Presently, my monk returned. ‘He’s on his way,’ he muttered. Then he went back to guarding the gate, glaring out across the street as if pretending to be the very last monk in the abbey to be caught in a simple act of kindness for an anxious young healer.
I waited for some time. Then a gruff voice behind me said, ‘I’m Brother Luke. Are you the girl with the fever patient?’
I spun round to him, bowing my head as I admitted that I was. Curtly, he ran through his version of how I ought to care for my cousin, which was pretty much what I’d been doing anyway. When he’d finished, I thanked him profusely and, reaching into the little leather purse at my waist, took out a coin. ‘Please put this in the poor box, Brother Luke,’ I said.
He looked at it, surprise in his eyes. I had given him more than I could afford, but I wanted to make quite sure he remembered me and, hopefully, spoke
I had not realized how exhausted I was. The next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes to daylight, sunshine was filtering through the cracks around the door and there were sounds of people stirring in the houses either side of me.
The new day was here.
I took advantage of being alone in the room. I heated water, stripped to my skin and washed, then quickly dressed again. I had spread my gown in front of the fire while I slept and now it was more or less dry. I combed out my hair and re-braided it, then I made myself sit down and eat some breakfast. The bread was dry, but I was so hungry that I barely noticed.
As soon as I had finished I set about my self-appointed task. I had remained in Ely to make the killers think Morcar was still there, being looked after by me; it was time to make a start. I tied a clean, white cap over my neatly braided hair and set off.
I knew where the apothecary’s shop was situated; I had spotted it as Sibert and I had searched for Morcar. Now I pretended to be the dullest-witted healer ever to walk the earth, asking again and again for directions and finally, with a flirtatious little smile, forcing a young merchant to walk me right up to the shop door. The more people that got to hear of the silly young healer who could not find her way, the better. From the apothecary I was careful to buy the ingredients I would have required to go on treating Morcar; I needed them in any case, having used up almost all of the supplies I had brought with me. Then I went up to the main gate of the abbey and, very meekly, asked if it were possible to speak to the infirmarer.
The monk at the gate said, ‘We do not permit the entry of lay women into the abbey save with special permission.’ He was a different type from the monk I had seen on my first day, a nicer, more charitable type, for he managed to put regret into the official words, and he looked at me quite kindly.
‘I see,’ I said, eyes cast modestly down. ‘I am sorry to have troubled you, brother.’ I gave a sad little sigh.
As I turned to leave he said, ‘Wait.’ I stopped. ‘What did you want with the infirmarer?’ he asked.
I risked a quick look up into his face. ‘I am nursing my sick cousin,’ I said. ‘He fell in the ditch and has a fever, and he also has a deep wound in his foot.’ That ought to be sufficient to describe Morcar, if anybody were interested. ‘I’m doing my best to treat him –’ quickly, I reeled off the standard remedies for fever and grave wounds – ‘but I wanted to ask someone with much, much more experience than I have if I’m doing right.’ I bit my lip, staring at my boots.
There was a pause. Then the monk said, ‘Wait here. I will send word.’
I waited. I wanted to cheer with jubilation, but I restrained the urge. Presently, my monk returned. ‘He’s on his way,’ he muttered. Then he went back to guarding the gate, glaring out across the street as if pretending to be the very last monk in the abbey to be caught in a simple act of kindness for an anxious young healer.
I waited for some time. Then a gruff voice behind me said, ‘I’m Brother Luke. Are you the girl with the fever patient?’
I spun round to him, bowing my head as I admitted that I was. Curtly, he ran through his version of how I ought to care for my cousin, which was pretty much what I’d been doing anyway. When he’d finished, I thanked him profusely and, reaching into the little leather purse at my waist, took out a coin. ‘Please put this in the poor box, Brother Luke,’ I said.
He looked at it, surprise in his eyes. I had given him more than I could afford, but I wanted to make quite sure he remembered me and, hopefully, spoke
Similar Books
