‘Benno? How did he get here? Did Father send him?’
‘Tell no one what I have said. No one.’ The widow rose, and pressed a forefinger to the girl’s lips. There was barely time to whisk into the corridor. Mother Luca and Sister Ancilla coming from the dormitory found the widow on her knees before the Madonna.
‘You are recovered, daughter, I see.’ Mother Luca’s eyes, so sad under the fold of their lids, were perfectly observant as she stood, hands clasped in her sleeves, looking down at her patient.
‘Oh Mother, thank Our Lady you have come. I was wondering how I could reach my bed without help. I thought I could pray here, ask Our Lady’s help to make me better; I was foolish. I can’t get to my feet.’ She extended her arms to be helped, and both sisters responded; but she got up more with the aid of strong leg muscles than they could realise; they thought she leant all her weight on them. The husky babble continued in a voice that weakened as she shuffled between them to her room. ‘My dear husband had so special a love for the Virgin… he had her name on his lips as he died… I am so afraid…’
‘Of what are you so afraid?’ Mother Luca, trying for the widow’s pulse, was prevented by her sudden clasping of her hands, half hidden by the long sleeves, to her mouth.
‘That I shall die. I’m so weak.’
‘Of course you will not die, daughter. It is true that you are weak, but this is often seen after undergoing danger.’ She reached for the pulse again, and the widow stumbled; at this moment a nun appeared in the doorway.
‘Mother Luca. Sister Benedicta.’
Mother Luca did not hesitate. ‘Daughter, rest. Do not stir from this cell. I shall send you a draught.’ It was a voice, not raised but accustomed to command obedience, and it held a trace of irritation. The widow must be prevented from rambling about so freely. The great silly was something of a nuisance.
During the next hour, her dying sister claimed all Mother Luca’s attention. Other problems receded. She sent Sister Giuseppe to pour the girl’s medicine and to return swiftly; Sister Benedicta must be supported in the only position that for the moment eased her pain. Mother Luca must go to the dispensary. Sister Ancilla must inform Reverend Mother. Sister Benedicta must be persuaded to take the stronger draught prepared. To Mother Luca’s practised eye, tonight would see Sister Benedicta’s joyful departure from this agonised body. Tonight, the Lord in His mercy might, as so often He did, grant a complete recession of pain so that the nun could go from this life as she ought. Father Vincenzio would be here then.
The widow had to pass the door of Sister Benedicta’s cell to reach Cosima. The afternoon light shone clear and the door of the sick nun’s cell stood ajar. Nevertheless the bulky figure went soundlessly along, pausing as before at the shrine to check whether anyone had noticed her. She went into the girl’s cell with a finger to her lips.
The eyes were open. Cosima once more struggled to sit up. Indeed, she succeeded although the arm on which she propped herself trembled.
‘Is Benno really here?’ she whispered. ‘I don’t understand. And I did have fever; I saw Father here, and thought I was at home, and Biondello — and the robbers killed him.’
The widow pointed to the cup. ‘That made you see visions.’
‘I didn’t drink it this time. I said I would, and Sister Giuseppe was in such a hurry she didn’t wait. I wanted to think. Why is Benno here? Why didn’t my father send all his men?’
‘These people have hidden you. Your father does not know where you are. They would have denied you were here.’
‘I have been thinking. It’s the Bandini, isn’t it? They carried me off. Who else? They don’t want the marriage with their Leandro any more than we do.’ She fell back on the pillows and clenched her fists. ‘Ugh! The very thought.’
‘More urgent is the need to get you away from here. Can you walk? I doubt it; let’s see.’
With no need for modesty before the widow, Cosima pushed back the covers and managed to get her feet to the floor. The widow’s left arm supported her, and she clung to the right hand through its sleeve.
‘I don’t seem to have any legs,’ Cosima reported, breathless. She was lowered to the bed again.
‘A little practice. But at the sound of anyone approaching, to bed. You must appear confused and half asleep. You must practice. I can support you, but to carry you-’ the widow smiled demurely — ‘would look suspicious, wouldn’t it, if we were seen? There’s a journey ahead of us. You will need all your courage.’
‘Can’t we get Mother Luca to help? I’m sure that she would. She’s understanding, and kind.’
The widow looked intently at Cosima.
‘What would you say if I told you she was a Bandini?’
Chapter Thirteen
A strengthening draught, and mutton broth so thick with vegetables as to be almost pottage, were duly supplied to the widow and found their way to Cosima during Nones. It was also during Nones that a cheerful whistle sounded all along the courtyard side of the infirmary, and the widow, in her own room, stood on the wooden stool and slit the oiled paper of her window. After a moment during which she allowed the knife blade to show beyond the outer embrasure, the whistler came to a halt outside and Benno coughed.
The widow peeled back a comer of the paper and in a vigorous mutter informed him that Cosima was found, but was in no state to travel as anything but a parcel. The widow made enquiries about the stables and Benno, leaning idly against the wall, replied. The widow gave directions, and he listened.
‘There’s a couple of the servants,’ he said at the end, ‘that don’t have no duties. They’re not visitors like me. They get fed here and they go in and out, to the city. One of them came in soon after daybreak and was over here right off like he had news. Reporting to this Mother Luca, eh? Because a tall nun came over and put a new bandage on his wrist and talked to him all the time without looking up, and he kept nodding, and then he left. By all accounts the servants give, she runs the whole place and Reverend Mother just nods.’
Biondello, who had been ranging the purlieus, returning always to his idol and source of all earthly delights, now noticed that Benno was talking and stood still, cocking his ear and giving an enquiring whimper.
‘?’
‘That one’s going to be noticeable no matter how the rest of us disguise,’ remarked the widow.
‘We could dye him brown.’
‘And cut off the other ear? Keep an eye open for those doubtful characters, Benno. Do you all sleep in one room over there?’
‘I thought if we was to move off on the quiet, the servants’ loft is the last place I should be. I sleep with the horses.’
‘Good,’ said the widow, and tucking back the oiled paper as neatly as was possible, she descended from her perch as Benno went off, circled rapidly by Biondello.
The day wore on. More nuns were now with Sister Benedicta. The low murmur of prayers, now said aloud, pervaded the annexe. When the widow, pausing as before at the shrine, took her supper to Cosima, she found her lying just as she had first seen her; but at her approach the eyelids fluttered and Cosima sat up.
‘I knew your scent,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, Cousin Caterina, I’ve been listening, and thinking — and look!’ Once more she pushed back the covers, swung her feet to the floor and stood up. ‘I’ve been walking. There’s no room, and it was dreadful at first, I kept falling — I longed for you to come and help me — but see.’ She walked to and fro; then lay down again far too thankfully for her boast to be true. The widow gave her the supper and watched as she ate it. ‘I’m so hungry! I’m not allowed much, because of the fever, but I didn’t mind until today. What are you eating, cousin?’