Very carefully she said, ‘There are more of you?’ No — she could see that he had not understood. So, counting on her fingers, she said, ‘Benedetto, Aurelia. .?’ then, holding a third finger, raised her eyebrows.
‘Aah!’ He beamed his comprehension. Then his smile vanished. Dropping his face into one large hand, he let out a groan, thumping a fist down on his thigh.
There must be more, Caliste thought swiftly. And they are in some trouble. ‘Benedetto?’ she prompted gently. ‘The others?’
But he had risen abruptly from the bench and was stalking away across the room.
There was, Caliste thought, little point in following him. He was clearly very upset and it did not seem prudent to pursue a large man in a bad mood. Instead she left the chapter house and went along the cloister to speak to the Abbess.
Helewise was in the middle of telling Josse about the events of the early morning when Sister Caliste tapped on her door. As she called out ‘Come in!’ and the young sister entered the room, Helewise could not help noticing Josse’s broad smile of welcome. Yes, she thought, he always did have a soft spot for our Caliste. Answering Caliste’s request to speak with a nod of encouragement, Helewise sat back to listen to what she had come to report.
‘. . and I really think that there must definitely be more of his party somewhere out there,’ Sister Caliste concluded a short time later. ‘They’re definitely foreign, at least, Benedetto is. I suppose English travellers might well employ a foreign bodyguard.’
‘Benedetto sounds like a name from southern lands,’ Josse mused. ‘Do you recall any words or phrases that he used, Sister Caliste?’
‘He said si for yes,’ she replied promptly. ‘And there was a word he used when I thanked him for something, only I can’t remember what it was.’
‘They say si in the southern lands,’ Josse said. ‘At least, I believe they do. In Spain, for example.’
‘Hmm.’ Helewise, whose knowledge of other languages was limited, had nothing to offer on that question. But there was something that she wanted to say. ‘There seems to be an error in this assumption that the man’s party was attacked,’ she observed. ‘Sister Euphemia reports that the woman in the infirmary has been flogged and branded, neither of which are injuries one might expect from someone who was the victim of an assault out on the open road. Surely these are the wounds of punishment.’
Josse, eyes fixed on hers, slowly nodded. ‘Aye,’ he breathed. ‘Aye.’
Sister Caliste was watching him wide-eyed. Helewise, who had an idea that more was to come, also watched and waited.
Then Josse shook his head. ‘There’s something niggling at me,’ he confessed. ‘I feel as if the puzzle of all this ought to fit together, if only I could think.’ He hit the side of his head with his open palm.
Helewise and Sister Caliste waited a moment longer.
Then, with a rueful grin, Josse said, ‘It’s no good, it won’t come and I can’t force it. I will tell you one thing, though, ladies.’ He glanced quickly at Sister Caliste and then back at Helewise. ‘I would bet my boots that this has something to do with Father Micah. It smells of him, and no mistake!’
9
The Abbess asked, as he might have known she would, ‘How can you be so sure, Sir Josse?
‘Because of what he was threatening to do to the wife of the Lord of the High Weald!’ he cried. ‘I told you, my lady, he was going to have her flogged, for no better reason than that she was of another faith and, in Father Micah’s eyes, living outside holy matrimony.’
‘And what has that to do with a foreign woman brought here to us for succour?’ Her grey eyes on his were cool to the point of chilliness, as if she thought he were making wild assumptions and did not approve.
‘Well, he could have met the woman and the rest of her group on the road. Perhaps he got into conversation with them, as travellers do, and they told him they weren’t Christians and he — the Father — thought, if they’re not Christians then they’re not really married, so I’ll flog the woman and brand her for her sins.’
The Abbess was not even trying to disguise her scepticism. He didn’t blame her; it sounded pretty feeble an explanation, even to him. ‘On the other hand, perhaps not,’ he finished lamely.
She smiled at him. ‘It is important always to set up a hypothesis, Sir Josse,’ she said kindly. ‘From sometimes wild ideas, a kernel of truth may emerge.’
Ah, he thought, but she’s a generous woman.
‘May I speak?’ Sister Caliste asked.
The Abbess turned to her. ‘Of course.’
‘Sister Euphemia says that once before she saw a woman branded. It was with an A because she had been the lover of a married man.’ The young nun glanced at Josse. ‘So perhaps there’s something in what Sir Josse says.’ She dropped her head, as if ashamed to support a scenario that her Abbess had just dismissed.
Josse watched the Abbess. After a short pause, she said, ‘Thank you, Sister Caliste. Perhaps, then, we should conclude that the woman in the infirmary-’
‘Her name is Aurelia,’ put in Sister Caliste.
‘-that Aurelia may indeed have suffered the wrath of Father Micah, but for some other reason and not because she came across him in the course of her journey and impulsively confessed to being of an alien faith. Yes?’ She looked first at Josse and then at Sister Caliste who, after giving each other a swift glance, both nodded their agreement.
The Abbess muttered under her breath — it sounded to Josse something about hair-splitting details — and then, with a radiant smile that indicated, to he who knew her so well, that she was having trouble holding on to her patience and didn’t want them to realise, said, ‘In that case, let us propose that.’
‘Where, then?’ Sister Caliste asked timidly after a moment.
‘Where?’ The Abbess glared at her.
‘Where did Father Micah meet Aurelia? And how did he find out she was an adulteress and had to be punished?’
Josse suppressed a smile. They were fair questions, and he was sure the Abbess would think so too, were she not so irritated. He was equally sure that she would not have an answer to either; he certainly could not think of one.
‘We cannot possibly expect to know these things at present,’ she said majestically. ‘There is a great deal more that we must find out before we understand what has happened. Sir Josse!’
She had turned to him so quickly that he was unprepared. Wiping the amusement from his face, he said, ‘My lady?’
‘If indeed this was a Church matter, and the punishment was meted out on Father Micah’s orders, then it is highly likely that Father Gilbert knows something of the matter.’ Glancing at Sister Caliste, she went on, ‘If Sister Caliste is right in her suspicion that this Benedetto was bodyguard to a group of travellers, then there may be news of the others. I had intended to visit Father Gilbert in any case, and I propose to do so straight away. Sufficient daylight remains, I would judge, to ride to his house and back before night closes in.’ She hesitated for an instant, then said, quite meekly for her, ‘I should be grateful for your company, if you would consent to ride with me.’
Now he smiled openly, pleased that she had asked. ‘Aye, that I will, and gladly.’
They set out from Hawkenlye riding silently side by side. Josse was glad of the chance to give Horace some exercise. The Abbess rode a dainty pale chestnut mare, an elegant animal whose breeding was evident in her lines. Josse, after the first quick glance, had looked away and tried to think about something else.
The mare was called Honey, and she belonged to a young woman called Joanna de Courtenay. Josse had encountered Joanna when she was on the run from her cousin, who had a future mapped out for Joanna’s young son that his mother found intolerable. Joanna had sought refuge with Mag Hobson, a woman who had cared for her when she was a child, then living in the depths of the forest and earning a reputation as a wise woman. Mag was now dead and Joanna, or so they said, lived out there in the wise woman’s hut. Some also said that she was taking up old Mag’s work.