Stealing Heaven (28 page)

 

When Galon opened the door, he screamed. Over his shoulder, Heloise saw Abelard sitting at his writing table, his face ashy. She grabbed the edge of the door and stumbled toward him.

He caught her by the arm. "In the name of Jesus!" he gasped.

Her lungs were on fire. It was hot in the room. She wiped her mouth, and the hand came back sticky. "Fulbert—" She began to babble incoherently, spilling out Fulbert's betrayal.

"God, God. Your face. Heloise, look what he's done to your face!" He sat her in his armchair. Shouting at Galon to bring water and towels, he held her, cuddled her close like a baby.

"Don't." She pushed him away, her body a sheet of pain. "You'll ruin your tunic."

Abelard shook his head slowly. Very low, he said, "I'll kill him." He took a basin from Galon and gently began to wash the wounds on her face and head. Her right eye was almost swollen shut. He stripped off the filthy lavender gown; when he saw the mottled purple welts running the length of her torso, he burst into sobs.

"Don't, beloved."

"The dog!"

"Please. You won't send me back there."

"For the love of God," Abelard cried, "do you think I would! I won't let you out of my sight."

Heloise shook her head. "He won't come here."

He picked her up and carried her into the bedchamber, calling for Galon to bring wine. "Be still now. He might have killed you." Heloise lay against the pillows watching him. "I'll not let you out of my sight," he repeated bitterly.

"Sweet, don't be foolish. How can you do that?"

He kissed her. "I don't know. I'll think of something." After a moment: "It's not safe here." He raised the cup to her lips.

Opening her mouth a crack, Heloise sipped the wine painfully; it stung her cut lips. Her eyelids drooping, she could hear Abelard's voice mumbling and Galon padding around behind him.

"Argenteuil," Abelard said suddenly. "You would be safe at Argenteuil."

Heloise forced her eyes wide open and strained to sit up. “I don't want to go to Argenteuil," she said hoarsely.

"Just for a few weeks. Until classes are over. Then we'll leave for Brittany."

"How can I go anywhere looking like this? I look terrible!"
 

"Shhh. Rest now." He pushed her back. "I'll send a message to Abbess—what is her name?" “Alais."

"Abbess Alais. I'll write and explain. When your face is healed, I'll take you there myself."

“I don't think—" Heloise felt herself falling asleep.

 

 

 

12

 

 

She waited
in the reception hall for more than an hour, fanning herself with the side of her hand. Perhaps Lady Alais won't have me, Heloise thought. But she knew it was not true. There was no sound from the little passageway leading to the abbess's apartments. She rose and listened for Abelard's voice. Nothing. The hall looked shabby, as if no one had sat in there for months. The floor rushes needed changing, and when Heloise had leaned her arm against the trestle, it had come back dusty. She blotted perspiration from her face, and remembered her surprise as they had ridden up the road to Argenteuil. It looked small, as if some sorceress had shrunk the buildings and outer walls. The paint on the gatehouse was peeling, but maybe it had always been that way and she had never noticed.

Restless, she paced up and down by the window. In the shadeless courtyard there was a knight with his horse and squire. She watched the knight walk slowly to the portress's lodge and shout something into the doorway. A nun came out, but it was not the same portress Heloise remembered—Matilda had been her name. The silence made Heloise uncomfortable, and she wondered if it were time for nones yet. A bell, anything, to break the awful stillness. At nones the nuns would come running from all parts of the convent and file into the church for the afternoon office. She caught herself waiting for something to happen, forgetting that nothing much ever happened there. Well, she told herself, it will only be for a few weeks, and it is cooler here than back in the Ile. That was something to thank God for.

Abruptly, she heard a padding noise and then the click-click of rosary beads. She looked up, curious to see who was making so much noise. Sister Madelaine stood in the doorway squinting at her, her face as yellow as a withered turnip. After a minute's hesitation, Heloise ran to her, fell on one knee, and kissed her dry hand. Above her head, she heard Madelaine whisper, "I knew you'd be back."

She got up. "I'm only visiting," she said, smiling.

Madelaine turned away from her and went over to a bench under the window. She sank down wearily and stared at Heloise. Heloise coughed and said tentatively, "I'm wed now."

 
"So I hear."
 

"I have a son."
 

“I've heard."

Heloise forced her mouth into a grin, with difficulty. "Is that all you can say? Aren't you pleased to see me?"

Madelaine stared at her steadily without replying.

Heloise looked around the room. When her eyes came back to Madelaine, the prioress was still watching her. "Stop looking at me like that."

Madelaine shrugged. "You're back," she repeated testily.

"I'm not back. I told you."

"You caught yourself a great lord."

Heloise flushed.

"And yet you're back. Why?"

"Only for a few weeks. And then we're going to Brittany. To get our babe."

"You didn't answer my question. Why are you here?"

Heloise compressed her lips.

"Hah! You're in some kind of trouble."

"I don't want to—" Heloise stopped. She crossed to a bench at the opposite end of the parlor and slouched down. "My—husband thought I would be comfortable here." She had almost said "safe" but thought better of it. She didn't want to tell Madelaine about the trouble with Fulbert.

"Your husband"—Madelaine spat the word "husband"—"is a rich, celebrated man."
 

"Yes."

"With many friends."
 

"Many."

"Then why did he bring you back here? To get rid of you."

"This is a foolish conversation. You don't understand."
 

"Think I'm stupid, don't you?" Madelaine snapped. Heloise said nothing. Sweat was making her back itch. "Paris is a wicked city."

"Sister Madelaine, I don't want to talk to you now. Please leave me alone."

Madelaine rose quickly; she left without looking back. Heloise went over to the window and leaned out, her throat gritty with thirst.

The knight and his squire had gone. The yard was an empty oblong of pink heat.

As the abbess's door opened, Heloise got to her feet. Abelard and Lady Alais were coming down the passageway, Abelard grinning and the abbess laughing flirtatiously and crinkling her nose at him. Neither of them looked at Heloise. They were talking about King Louis and his friend Suger, and the abbess was patting Abelard's arm, saying, "Wonderful, my lord. If it wouldn't be too much trouble. Bless you." Heloise decided that Abelard must have promised to secure some royal favor for the convent. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, waiting for them to finish. God, she thought, Lady Alais is acting like a schoolgirl. She ought to be ashamed.

With a grand flourish, Abelard bent over the abbess's right hand and kissed her ring tenderly. She glowed at him, her dimples winking, while they exchanged the kiss of peace. Then she turned vaguely in Heloise's direction.

"Child," she called loudly, "you are welcome here."

"Thank you, lady."

The abbess turned and went back into her apartment. The door slammed after her. Heloise went to Abelard and wrapped her arms around him. She pressed her nose against his cheek. "What did she say?"

"Well. What do you think? She said you might stay."

 
"Did you tell her about Uncle?"

Abelard backed away. "Certainly. Walk with me to the stables."

“'You're leaving already?"

"I'm dining with the Count of Dreux this evening. On second thought, you'd better stay here. Lady Alais will be sending someone for you."

She sighed, thinking of Paris, and kissed him on the cheek. "All right. I might as well get it over with."
 

"Hunh?"

"I mean, seeing them all again." She pointed vaguely in the direction of the cloister. "You'd better go."

“I'll come next week, sweeting. Saturday, if I can. Or Sunday. Heloise . . ."

"What, love?"

'You'll be all right?" He sounded anxious. She answered with a grin, "I'll be fine." She watched him cross the courtyard.

After a while, a novice came in and motioned to her. The girl, who was about twelve and pretty in a pinched way, looked familiar. Following her, Heloise saw that she limped. The abbess's favorite, but she had grown up. Over her shoulder, the girl said, "I'm Astrane. You remember, lady."

"I remember. How do you?"

"Very well," she answered politely.

Astrane led her into the cloister and along the vaulted south walk. They passed the chapter house and, at the corner, turned and started up the east walk. Three schoolgirls were sitting on a stone bench near the fountain, sewing; they stared at Heloise solemnly.

Heloise said to Astrane, "Where are we going?"

"Wardrobe."

"Why?"

"Lady Alais said so."

Inside, the nun in charge of wardrobe greeted Heloise with a
smile. She began looking her up and down, measuring her with her eyes. "You're quite tall," she observed critically.

Heloise felt her irritation rise, but she said nothing. The nun turned away and started to rummage in one of the dozen great chests that practically filled the room. She mumbled, "I might have to rip out a hem."

Annoyed, Heloise said, "What are you talking about?" Behind her back, she could hear the lame girl shuffling her feet.

The nun pulled her head out of the chest. "Most of the gowns would be too short for you."

Startled, she growled, "I don't need a gown. I have one."

Clutching a black novice robe, the woman got to her feet with a
pleased smile. As if she had not heard Heloise, she said happily, "This looks plenty long. We can try it."

Suddenly Heloise began to laugh dryly. "Hold on now, Sister. Just a
minute. You've made a
mistake."

Frowning, the nun glanced at Heloise and then at Astrane, who lingered in the doorway.

"I'm not a new novice," Heloise reassured the woman. "I'm a
guest." She added, "A paying guest."

Astrane said loudly, "Lady abbess said you're to have a
novice gown."

Heloise stared at her. "Whatever for?" The girl frowned again, her lips pressed. "I won't wear it. This is ridiculous."

The three of them stood watching each other. Finally Astrane wheeled and dragged out the door. Heloise said to the wardrober, who was still holding the gown, "Put it away. There's been a misunderstanding."

Doubtful, the woman shook her head. Slowly she shook out the gown and hung it on a peg. It was clear that she did not believe Heloise. She sat down at the trestle, threaded a needle, and began hemming a towel. Heloise stood near the door, her
hands folded behind her back. A few minutes later, she could see Astrane hurrying down the walk, and behind her, frowning, trotted Lady Alais.

Heloise waited until the abbess drew near, and then she said, "Please tell her I am not a novice. I wear my own clothes."

Lady Alais stepped inside and put her arm awkwardly around Heloise's waist. 'Yes, yes," she said soothingly. "But you are to wear it just the same. Lord Abelard said so."

Heloise shook herself loose. "Don't be silly. I mean, I'm sorry, lady —but he could not have said such a thing. I'm only going to be here three weeks. Four at the most."

“I know." The abbess snatched Heloise's arm and pulled her outside on the walk. Leaning up to her ear, she whispered, "I know, but Master Abelard and I discussed this. He told me in confidence that considering the—er—situation he is in, that is—" She began to stammer slightly. "That is to say, if people believe you have become a novice, they certainly can't think you are the wife of Master Abelard. See?"

"No." Heloise stared fiercely ahead, her fingers clenched. It was as if the abbess had struck her. She repeated angrily, "No."

"Rumors will cease once it becomes known you are wearing a habit." She smiled earnestly. "Then you can leave quietly and no one will know."

Heloise glanced down at her, thoughts reeling, and then she scowled. "It's a terrible idea." Although the habit would convince people that she had been speaking truth about the marriage. Fulbert, not she, would seem the liar.

"Child. Listen to me. It's your lord's wish that you wear the habit while you're here. Won't you obey?" The abbess smiled coaxingly.

Heloise thought. She would do whatever Abelard desired. But he should have told her first. Finally, she nodded at Lady Alais. She was not going to make herself unhappy over a piece of cloth.

 

She felt light-headed. In the cloister, the potted lemon tree still flourished, and she walked over to it and sniffed the leaves. The tree was considerably taller than she recalled. Of course, she told herself, everything and everybody around here has grown or aged or died. She didn't know what she had expected. The bell for nones chimed, and women in black began streaming along the walks in the direction of the church. Heloise moved into the shadow of the lemon tree and watched them, detached. She kept waiting for some obvious sensation to strike her, like depression or scorn, even the clench of fear she usually experienced when she thought of Argenteuil. She felt nothing. In the yellow light, the black figures looked like some queer silhouette design on a frieze.

A thin woman with puffy eyes detached herself from the tail of the line and came slowly down the path toward her. She was looking past Heloise, as if she had her eyes on something just to the right of the lemon tree. Heloise smiled inwardly; the nun's veil was hanging crooked, her sharp little face smudged with dirt. Such things had never happened when Heloise lived here. Lady Alais must be getting lax about discipline.