I smiled. ‘Hasn’t she paid you?’ I wouldn’t have been surprised.
‘Oh – yes, yes she has,’ Mattie said. ‘Eventually,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘It’s not that – it’s her baby, her little boy.’ Now her face creased in distress.
‘Is he ill?’ Already I was calculating my next moves: back to Gurdyman with the crab apples, fetch my satchel, then straight to the veiled woman’s inn.
But Mattie was shaking her head. ‘He’s not ill, not so far as I can make out, although you’re the expert and it’s not for me to say.’
‘What, then?’ Mattie hesitated. ‘Oh, come on, Mattie!’ I pressed her. ‘I’m out on an urgent errand, and I’ll get into trouble if I delay!’
‘Yes, sorry,’ she said hurriedly. ‘The thing is, see, the baby’s sad.’
That brought me up short. ‘Sad?’
‘He suckles well, takes a decent feed, and his bowels function nicely, but when I’ve fed him, winded him, changed him and he’s got no reason not to close his sweet little eyes and have a bit of a nap – because I can see he’s sleepy – he just lies there, staring around, for all the world as if he’s looking for something, and can’t let himself drop off till he’s spotted it. And the look on that dear child’s face! Oh, it fair twists my heart.’
Kind, sentimental Mattie’s eyes filled with tears, which rolled slowly down her plump cheeks.
‘You’d like me to come and have a look at him.’
‘Yes, I would.’ She wiped the tears away. ‘That Jack Chevestrier, he said to come and find you.’
‘He did?’ I was surprised. Having resolved the problem of the appropriated bread and found accommodation for the veiled woman, I’d have thought his involvement would have ended, although his fat little sheriff had commanded him to look after her …
‘Yes. Seems he’s been keeping an eye,’ Mattie said darkly. ‘Maybe he suspects she’ll slip out and nick another loaf if he doesn’t put in an appearance now and again, to remind her of the difference between right and wrong.’
I suppressed a grin. There spoke a totally honest woman. ‘Of course I’ll come,’ I reassured her. ‘I must first complete my errand, then I’ll go straight to the inn.’
‘Thank you,’ Mattie breathed. ‘I won’t come with you. I’ve just come from there, and the little lad won’t be needing me for a while.’ She sighed, shaking her head.
Impulsively I leaned towards her and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘Go home to your own children,’ I said. ‘They need you.’ She looked at me doubtfully. ‘Mattie, your own sons and daughter are your main responsibility. You’ve done your best for the veiled woman’s baby. I will help, if I can. Go home,’ I repeated.
She nodded. Then she squared her shoulders and strode off in the direction of her house.
I flew down the steps to the crypt and laid the crab apples on the workbench. Then I explained to Gurdyman what had just happened. I had half-thought he would command me to finish the preparation of our herbal charm, but he said, ‘You must go, Lassair. I will finish this.’
‘I’m sorry to abandon the lesson,’ I said. ‘Will we have to begin again, another time?’
He smiled. ‘Yes. But it doesn’t matter – preparing even something very special must take second place to tending to the living. Off you go.’ He waved a shooing hand at me.
I ran back to the steps. Just as I was hurrying up them, he added, ‘Oh, and Lassair, you might pick up something hot for our supper on your way home.’
As I swiftly picked up my leather satchel and once more left the house, I was grinning. My dear Gurdyman might be deep in the mystical process of murmuring magical words over a precise mixture of very particular ingredients, but, nevertheless, a part of his wide-ranging, capable and highly intelligent mind was on his stomach.
I reached the inn. The same white-coifed woman showed me along to the veiled lady’s room. I knocked on the door. There were sounds of movement – I heard a sort of rustling – and a voice said, ‘Enter.’
She was sitting on the stool, one elbow resting on the table beside her. She had been sewing; hemming her skirt, it seemed, for she was smoothing it down as I went in, her needle stuck into a little pincushion. Her headdress and veil were in place, and I wondered if the sounds I had heard were her movements as she adjusted them. I understood that women of the east, if that was where she came from, habitually wore veils, so that only their own close kin saw their faces. Above the veil, her black eyes stared fixedly at me, their impact almost overpowering in the small room. I wondered if she had enhanced their effect by the use of some sort of paint; her long lashes seemed to glisten, and the fine skin of her eyelids was very dark.
But the veiled woman was not my chief concern.
I looked towards the bed. The baby lay there, well wrapped, relaxed and calm, except for the steady, repetitive movement of his head. Mattie was right: he looked as if he was staring round the room, searching for something.
Or perhaps someone.
I had an idea who the someone might be.
I turned back to the veiled lady. ‘Madam, I have been given to understand by concerned people that your baby may need my attention,’ I said stiffly. Her steady, unblinking gaze was unnerving.
‘Concerned people?’ Her husky voice echoed and mocked my words, managing to make them sound risible. ‘Who are these people? And why should your attention be required?’ Again, she used emphasis with cruel efficiency, as if it was unbelievable that anyone in their right mind could think I could be of any help.
‘I am a healer, madam,’ I said coldly. ‘As I believe you are aware.’
She sniffed, drawing herself up. ‘I am not unwell.’
‘Perhaps not.’ I was holding on to my temper with difficulty. ‘You, however, are not the only person here.’
She looked across at the narrow bed. ‘He is in good health,’ she pronounced. ‘He feeds, he does not cry unduly.’ She shrugged, as if to say, So why are you here?
‘May I not look at him?’ I asked. I tried to smile, but found that it was impossible.
She shrugged again. ‘If you must.’
I went over to the bed, and the movement caught the baby’s attention. The light blue eyes turned to me, and I was quite sure I saw expectation in them. Then he gave a sad little sigh and turned away.
I picked him up, holding him close to me. I murmured to him – silly nonsense, intended to soothe – and kissed the top of his head. He smelt sweet and clean; Mattie was doing a good job.
‘It is not my embrace he needs, madam,’ I said quietly. I glanced at her. ‘He had, I imagine, a nurse?’ For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine the veiled lady ever having held her son in her arms. It was not her he pined for.
‘He did.’
‘And that nurse is no longer in your employ?’
‘There is another one who comes.’
‘Yes, I know.’ It was I who found her for you! I wanted to yell. Dear Lord, was she still in shock? Had something so awful happened on the way here that her mind had been affected? I took a calming breath. It would not help either the veiled woman or her child if I became agitated. ‘The new wet-nurse will not be familiar to your son,’ I said, trying to speak kindly. ‘It will take him a while to get used to her. She will smell different from the previous nurse, and her milk will not be quite the same.’ The veiled woman gave a distinct shudder of revulsion. She is a grand lady, I told myself firmly. It is not her fault that she has been brought up to believe such ordinary, human functions are not only beneath her but also slightly disgusting. ‘Madam, would you not hold him?’ I suggested. ‘In the absence of his old nurse, you are someone he knows and recognizes.’ I stepped closer, ready to put the baby in her arms if she showed the slightest sign of being willing to receive him.
She turned away.
I went back to the bed, laid the child down and sat down beside him, gently stroking my fingers across his forehead. His skin was cool and smooth. As far as I could tell, he was indeed perfectly well.