aback by her dramatic reaction to her young mistress’s death.
For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Sister Euphemia said kindly, ‘Would you like to see her one last time?’
Wordlessly Aebba nodded.
The infirmarer drew back the sheet again and Aebba stared silently down on Galiena. She stood perfectly still for some time, her face once more an unmoving mask. Then, still without a word, she turned and walked quickly out of the room.
Helewise felt that it was high time she began to act more like the Abbess of Hawkenlye and less like a grieving mourner. After all, she told herself firmly, she had hardly known Galiena and, although the girl’s death was undoubtedly a tragedy for her poor husband, it was not one that affected Helewise personally. She said in what she hoped was her usual tone, ‘SisterEuphemia, would you now please prepare the body for burial? Sister Caliste can assist you. In the morning I will send word to Father Gilbert that he will be needed.’ Then she nodded briefly to the two nuns and made her way out into the infirmary. Reaching the outer door, she was aware that Josse had followed her.
Once they were in the relative seclusion of the cloister, he spoke. His face still looking worried, he said, ‘My lady, this is a strange business, is it not? Can we truly believe that Galiena did not know herself to be pregnant?’
She turned to him. ‘What else can we believe?’ she asked simply.
He frowned, winced, then said, ‘I suppose you are right. Certainly, when I met her at her husband’s manor she seemed genuinely thrilled at the thought that Hawkenlye might be the answer to her prayers. I would bet a king’s ransom’ – he broke off with a wry grin – ‘I mean, I would bet much money that she had no idea then that what she so desperately wanted had already happened.’
‘Well then, why do you look so doubtful?’ She recalled, looking at him now, that she had meant to organise some remedy for his sunburned face; everything else that had happened had driven it out of her head.
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. There is something here that I don’t understand.’
‘What?’ she demanded.
He grinned again. ‘My lady, do not be so fierce with a man in pain!’
She touched his sleeve briefly. ‘I am sorry, Sir Josse. Sister Euphemia is busy, as we both know, but come along with me to Sister Tiphaine, who, I am quite sure, will have some soothing balm for your face.’
The herbalist’s little room smelled of lavender and rosemary. As Helewise and Josse entered, she was making something with rose water and the heady fragrance was gradually permeating the air, blending with the background scent so that unconsciously Helewise found herself breathing in deeply, as if to absorb more of the sweet perfume into her body.
‘My lady Abbess,’ Sister Tiphaine greeted her, bowing somewhat stiffly. ‘Sir Josse.’ She gave him a wide smile, then immediately reached up a practised hand to a large jar halfway along a shelf behind her. ‘I can guess why you have come to see me,’ she said as she opened the jar. ‘Dab this on your face. It will ease the discomfort and help the skin to mend itself.’
Helewise watched as Josse sniffed at the jar and then gingerly patted a small amount of the contents on his left cheek. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘Lavender, mostly,’ the herbalist replied. ‘Plus a few of my special magic ingredients.’
Helewise was not certain but she thought she saw Sister Tiphaine give Josse a quick wink.
‘You have heard the news, Sister?’ she enquired.
Sister Tiphaine turned to her, all signs of merriment now gone from her face. ‘I have, my lady. And Igrieve for the young woman, for all that I cannot say I warmed to her.’
‘Didn’t you?’ Josse sounded amazed. ‘But she was a delightful young woman, kind and gentle as well as beautiful!’
Helewise exchanged a glance with the herbalist, who cocked an ironic eyebrow. ‘Perhaps, Sir Josse,’ she said,
For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Sister Euphemia said kindly, ‘Would you like to see her one last time?’
Wordlessly Aebba nodded.
The infirmarer drew back the sheet again and Aebba stared silently down on Galiena. She stood perfectly still for some time, her face once more an unmoving mask. Then, still without a word, she turned and walked quickly out of the room.
Helewise felt that it was high time she began to act more like the Abbess of Hawkenlye and less like a grieving mourner. After all, she told herself firmly, she had hardly known Galiena and, although the girl’s death was undoubtedly a tragedy for her poor husband, it was not one that affected Helewise personally. She said in what she hoped was her usual tone, ‘SisterEuphemia, would you now please prepare the body for burial? Sister Caliste can assist you. In the morning I will send word to Father Gilbert that he will be needed.’ Then she nodded briefly to the two nuns and made her way out into the infirmary. Reaching the outer door, she was aware that Josse had followed her.
Once they were in the relative seclusion of the cloister, he spoke. His face still looking worried, he said, ‘My lady, this is a strange business, is it not? Can we truly believe that Galiena did not know herself to be pregnant?’
She turned to him. ‘What else can we believe?’ she asked simply.
He frowned, winced, then said, ‘I suppose you are right. Certainly, when I met her at her husband’s manor she seemed genuinely thrilled at the thought that Hawkenlye might be the answer to her prayers. I would bet a king’s ransom’ – he broke off with a wry grin – ‘I mean, I would bet much money that she had no idea then that what she so desperately wanted had already happened.’
‘Well then, why do you look so doubtful?’ She recalled, looking at him now, that she had meant to organise some remedy for his sunburned face; everything else that had happened had driven it out of her head.
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. There is something here that I don’t understand.’
‘What?’ she demanded.
He grinned again. ‘My lady, do not be so fierce with a man in pain!’
She touched his sleeve briefly. ‘I am sorry, Sir Josse. Sister Euphemia is busy, as we both know, but come along with me to Sister Tiphaine, who, I am quite sure, will have some soothing balm for your face.’
The herbalist’s little room smelled of lavender and rosemary. As Helewise and Josse entered, she was making something with rose water and the heady fragrance was gradually permeating the air, blending with the background scent so that unconsciously Helewise found herself breathing in deeply, as if to absorb more of the sweet perfume into her body.
‘My lady Abbess,’ Sister Tiphaine greeted her, bowing somewhat stiffly. ‘Sir Josse.’ She gave him a wide smile, then immediately reached up a practised hand to a large jar halfway along a shelf behind her. ‘I can guess why you have come to see me,’ she said as she opened the jar. ‘Dab this on your face. It will ease the discomfort and help the skin to mend itself.’
Helewise watched as Josse sniffed at the jar and then gingerly patted a small amount of the contents on his left cheek. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘Lavender, mostly,’ the herbalist replied. ‘Plus a few of my special magic ingredients.’
Helewise was not certain but she thought she saw Sister Tiphaine give Josse a quick wink.
‘You have heard the news, Sister?’ she enquired.
Sister Tiphaine turned to her, all signs of merriment now gone from her face. ‘I have, my lady. And Igrieve for the young woman, for all that I cannot say I warmed to her.’
‘Didn’t you?’ Josse sounded amazed. ‘But she was a delightful young woman, kind and gentle as well as beautiful!’
Helewise exchanged a glance with the herbalist, who cocked an ironic eyebrow. ‘Perhaps, Sir Josse,’ she said,
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