Caliste’s humming faltered, then ceased. Turning wide eyes to Helewise, she seemed to stare straight through her.
‘Are you awake, Sister Caliste?’ Helewise whispered. There was no reply. Pulling steadily at the girl’s arm, Helewise led her back into the dormitory and along the room to her bed. There, like an obedient child, the novice lay down and shut her eyes. Helewise arranged the covers over her, then, drawing the hangings across the opening, left the girl to sleep.
Helewise noticed that she had left the dormitory door open; with a mild tut of annoyance at her own carelessness, she went back to close it.
As she did so, she heard the humming again.
Now it was fainter, and, if anything, even more unsettling.
Because, although it was the same wandering tune that Caliste had hummed, in the same unearthly key, it came from the forest.
Somewhere out there in that vast darkness, someone had heard Caliste’s strange song. And they were sending back a reply.
* * *
The Abbess’s ability to concentrate on her devotions and her duties the following day was, she soon discovered, severely impaired. For one thing, she had resolved to keep a watchful eye on Sister Caliste, which in itself was disturbing since the girl had a vacant look about her; wide-eyed and anxious, she was far from being her usual serene and smiling self.
When Helewise asked her gently if she felt all right — and, more relevant, if she had slept well — the girl gave her a puzzled frown and replied, ‘I am quite well, thank you, Abbess. And, yes, I slept deeply. Why?’
‘Oh — I thought you looked a little pale,’ Helewise improvised.
Caliste gave her a sweet smile. ‘How well you care for us,’ she said softly.
Helewise couldn’t answer. Just then, she felt she was failing at least one of her little community quite badly. Leaving Caliste to carry on with her work — she was washing out soiled bandages and hanging them to dry in the strong sunshine, which, according to Sister Euphemia, was the best thing for making them wholesome and fit for re-use — Helewise went back to her room. It appeared, she reflected as she paced across the courtyard, that Caliste had no recollection of her sleepwalking.
Which somehow made it all the more strange.
Helewise’s preoccupation with Caliste meant that, try as she might, she had not been able to rid her mind of memories of the chilling scene she had witnessed last night. At times, she even thought she could still hear echoes of that inhuman humming …
And, as if all that were not enough to worry about, in addition there was Esyllt. A very different Esyllt since the murder in the forest, and Helewise’s conscience nagged her continuously to find out why.
Paying another visit to her in the old people’s home, Helewise realised that Esyllt had lost weight. She was still a fine, strong young woman, but her face was thinner. And there was something else … Yes. Helewise, watching Esyllt walk to greet her, nodded faintly.
Esyllt had lost the proud carriage which had thrown back her shoulders and displayed her fine figure. Now, she moved as if a yoke lay across her back. A yoke, moreover, that bore a heavy load.
‘Abbess?’ Esyllt said, having made her reverence. ‘Did you wish to speak to Sister Emanuel? Only she’s just gone outside with old Brother Josiah, and-’
Helewise held up her hand. ‘No, Esyllt. It is you I wished to see.’
‘Oh.’
It was amazing, Helewise reflected briefly, how so much feeling could be put into that small response. ‘I wondered if you might want to talk about-’ she began.
Then she stopped. She had tried that approach before, and it had failed. Why should she expect it to work now? Instead, stepping closer to the girl, Helewise opened her arms and enfolded her in a hug.
For a moment, Esyllt seemed to respond. Sagging against Helewise, she emitted a sob.
‘There, child,’ Helewise murmured. ‘There, now.’ She reached up a hand and smoothed the girl’s hair. ‘Let me help you,’ she went on, keeping her voice low, ‘I do hate to see you suffer so, and-’
But Esyllt’s brief collapse was over.
Straightening up and pulling herself away from Helewise, she wiped her hand across her eyes and said, ‘I thank you, Abbess, but there is nothing you can do.’ Turning away, she added under her breath, ‘Nothing anybody can do.’
Helewise watched her walk away.
Then she went outside to look for Sister Emanuel.
The nun was sitting on a bench next to a very old man in monk’s habit. She was holding his hand, and occasionally reaching up to wipe tears from his cheeks with a spotless piece of linen.
Seeing the Abbess, Sister Emanuel began to detach herself and get up. Helewise motioned for her to stay where she was; the old monk, she observed, didn’t appear to have noticed her.
She went to sit down on Sister Emanuel’s free side. ‘What is the matter with him?’ she asked quietly.
Sister Emanuel gave the old man an affectionate glance. ‘Nothing, really,’ she replied in her normal voice. ‘It’s all right,’ she added, ‘Brother Josiah doesn’t hear very well. Nor, indeed, does he see very well.’ She sighed. ‘His eyes run in the bright light, Abbess, that is all.’
Helewise nodded. She could, for the moment, think of nothing to say.
‘He likes to feel the sunshine on his face,’ Sister Emanuel remarked. ‘That, really, is his one remaining pleasure, so I like him to enjoy it as often as is practical.’
There was a short silence. Then Sister Emanuel said, ‘Were you looking for me, Abbess?’
Helewise, too, had been enjoying the sun on her face. With an effort, she brought herself back to the matter in hand.
‘Yes, Sister. I am concerned about Esyllt.’
‘As am I,’ Sister Emanuel said. ‘She is — ’ She frowned, as if not sure how to proceed. After a few moments, she went on, ‘It is as if she were pining. She does not eat, does not, I think, sleep well. I have no complaint about the quantity of her work; indeed, she is almost working herself too hard. However, the quality of it has changed.’ Sister Emanuel gave a small sigh. ‘It is not charitable of me to criticise someone whom, I am sure, is in deep distress, but, Abbess, I feel that I must report to you any observations I have made.’
‘Yes, please do,’ Helewise urged. ‘Go on.’
‘Esyllt has lost her touch,’ Sister Emanuel said sadly. ‘There used to be such a sense of joy about her that it communicated itself even to people such as he, who can barely see nor hear.’ She indicated Brother Josiah, sitting mumbling to himself by her side. ‘But now…’ She did not finish her sentence.
‘As if she were pining,’ Helewise repeated.
‘Abbess?’
‘That’s what you said. But pining for what, Sister Emanuel?’
Sister Emanuel shot her a sad look. ‘Abbess, I really could not say.’
* * *
At Sext, after a morning in which she felt she had accomplished absolutely nothing except to give herself a headache, the Abbess took a firm hold on her emotions. Praying for fortitude and wisdom, she forced her own problems out of her mind and opened herself up to the Lord. With the result that, as she left the Abbey church, at last she knew what she must do.
There might still be time …
* * *
Josse, disturbed in the middle of a warm and lazy afternoon, was surprised to see Brother Saul ride into the courtyard of New Winnowlands. Even more surprised when Saul delivered his message.
‘Now?’ Josse exclaimed.
‘Yes,’ Brother Saul said. ‘Well, if it is not an inconvenience.’
‘Why the hurry?’
Brother Saul shrugged. ‘She did not say.’
‘Hmm.’ Strange, Josse thought as, sending Saul on ahead to say that Josse was on his way, he packed up the few belongings he would need for a night or two away from home. Still puzzling — and not a little intrigued — he yelled out to Will to prepare his horse, and, not long after Saul had gone, he was on the road behind him.