The Marsh King's Daughter by Elizabeth Chadwick Page B

incarcerated in St Michael's Priory until Mother Hillary arrived to take her back to St Catherine's.
    'I need ordinary clothes,' she hissed to Nicholas, certain that a priest they had just passed had given her a strange look. Nuns were seldom seen outside their religious houses and, when they were, they were usually high-ranking women on important business, not novices. They were certainly never accompanied by single male civilians. 'Something quiet and respectable that no one will notice or remark upon.'
    They approached the defensive gate in the town walls where a guard was collecting tolls from people entering. He had propped his spear against the stonework and his helmet lay on the ground beside it. He wasn't expecting trouble.
    'Keep your eyes down, your hands clasped in front of you, and say nothing,' Nicholas replied. 'Then all folk will see is a pious nun. If you look round with wild eyes and fidget all the time, they will see a runaway for sure.'
    'Easier to say than do,' Miriel said with a hint of panic as they drew closer to the guard.
    'Just follow my lead,' Nicholas muttered impatiently. 'There are bound to be shops and stalls aplenty in the town where we can garb you more fittingly.'
    Almost choking on the lump of fear in her throat, Miriel folded her hands and bowed her head to watch the flare of her skirts as she walked. Her heart thundered against her ribs as they drew abreast of the guard.
    'Fine day for the end of the year,' Nicholas said pleasantly as he handed over the penny toll.
    'Aye, 'tis that.' The guard looked him and Miriel over with cursory interest. 'You come from roundabouts?'
    'Over Newark way,' Nicholas answered in the same, easy tone, and led the mule forwards. 'We are travelling to Sempringham Abbey.' He glanced briefly at Miriel.
    It was enough to put the suggestion in the guard's head that Nicholas was an abbey servant and his business legitimate. The soldier nodded, his attention already on the next person in the queue.
    'See,' said Nicholas as he and Miriel continued up St Mary's Hill and into the town, 'you can get away with anything if you show the right face to the world.'
    Miriel's palms were damp with sweat. 'Mayhap,' she said shakily, 'but I will not feel safe until I am rid of these weeds. What if he had been suspicious? Supposing he had wanted to search us?'
    'But he wasn't suspicious because we did not give him cause,' Nicholas said with exasperation. Then he looked at her and his expression softened. He drew her to the side of the road. 'There's a churchyard yonder. Go and pray by one of the graves and I'll find you some clothes in the market.'
    Miriel was none too sanguine about entering any kind of religious precinct, but knew she had small choice. Her legs were still trembling from their encounter with the guard, and it would be unwise to wander around the booths and stalls with Nicholas. A nun showing interest in secular women's clothing was bound to be cause for speculation.
    'I'll take care of the mule.' She grasped the scuffed, salt-stained bridle that had once belonged to the royal pack pony.
    'No.' He clamped his hand over hers. They looked at each other. Miriel wished that she were half a foot taller so that she could meet him eye to eye.
    'I will return, I promise,' he said.
    Miriel clung stubbornly to the bridle. 'How do I know you'll keep your word?'
    'You don't. You'll just have to take me on trust.'
    Miriel stared at him, as if she could pierce his intentions just by concentrating on his face. But his sea-dark eyes gave nothing away.
    'As I took you on trust when I told you about my family and King John,' he added.
    Biting her lip, suddenly feeling small and mean, Miriel released the rein. 'Do not be too long,' she entreated.
    Without reply, he turned the mule around and clicked his tongue. Miriel felt a surge of panic as she watched him leave the graveyard. Small and mean or not, her doubts persisted. This might indeed be the last view she ever had of him and the