Threads of Treason (16 page)

After compline the nuns settled down in the dorter and readied themselves for sleep. Therese had been enjoying her sleep since Eric went to live in the builders’ camp so she took off her outer garments ready to settle onto her straw mattress in her chemise. She noticed, however, that Hilda did not remove her outer clothing, just her veil as she pulled her bed covers over her. This was just as Therese had done on the nights she’d been up in the night. She put her hand out and dragged her habit under the blankets with her. In the dying light the others were only interested in their own slumbers and she was sure her and Hilda’s actions had gone unnoticed.

Therese slipped her tunic back on and waited for any sound of Hilda rising. She did not have to wait long. She was soon aware that Hilda was making her way to the stairway into the church so she followed. She’d become almost expert at gliding noiselessly over the floorboards. On entering the church she paused behind the choir and looked for Hilda. She could not see her, but she could hear her at the back of the church, near the temporary wall. She remembered her own feet making dusty footprints there and realised why no one had seen them: someone else had been there and swept them away – and that someone was Hilda. Therese moved closer hiding behind an altar screen.

Now the virgin moonlight in the eastern sky highlighted Hilda through the window above the altar. She was lifting the door hanging. Therese heard a brick slide out of place and then slide back. She leapt from her hiding place, bounded down the aisle and caught Hilda’s wrist.

Hilda turned away from the door to look at the person who’d arrested her, but Therese was looking at the hand she gripped firmly. A small pottery bottle stained with ink was clasped between her fingers.

‘
Why do you have this ink bottle, Sister?’ asked Therese in a hushed but angry voice.

‘
Don’t be a hero, Sister Therese. This has nothing to do with you.’

‘
It seems you have something you wish to hide?’ Therese gave the young woman’s wrist a little shake and the bottle slipped from her fingers into Therese’s other hand, which she held underneath ready.

‘
This isn’t as it seems. Believe me.’

‘
Tell me what it is, and I might believe you.’

‘
This is the inkbottle that was used to try and destroy the panel in the sewing room. You must have heard about the incident from the others?’

‘
Some rumours have it that there was no ink: that the deaf nun wasn’t deaf and that she and Prioress Ursula were fighting with each other; that they were together in the plot and somehow came to blows. They fought and fell from the tower.’

‘
There is,’ said Hilda, ‘another version of the story. The true one. If I tell you, this must go no further or I will be finished here.’

‘
Who am I to tell anyone?’ asked Therese.

‘
I don’t know who you are, but I know you are Norman.’

Therese nodded. ‘Hurry, tell me, before we are found down here.’

Still a little reluctantly Hilda continued, ‘I heard shouts so I went back to the sewing room, but Prioress Ursula and the deaf girl had already left. I was the first one back. I could hear them in the tower. There was ink everywhere and there was this inkbottle in the middle of the floor. Sister Ethelburga, as she was then, came in behind me. She told me to pick it up and hide it. We didn’t know the Prioress was about to fall to her death. Sister Ethelburga said that if I did as she said when she was Prioress she would make me head of the needle workers. She wanted to discredit Prioress Ursula. And, God forgive me, I took it and hid it. Sister Ethelburga locked the room and when Prioress Ursula was found dead she had the room cleaned. Some of the floorboards were planed and some had to be replaced. The carpenter was dismissed shortly afterwards.’

‘
Did you not feel this was wrong, Sister Hilda?’

‘
I knew I’d made a terrible mistake. I went to Sister Ethelburga and said to her that she didn’t need to discredit Prioress Ursula now that she was dead, and she pointed out that Sister Winifred would be likely to get the post and anyway my hands were stained with ink. She said she would expose me as one of the traitors. What could I do?’

‘
So what are you going to do with the bottle now?’ asked Therese

‘
I’m going to destroy it. The ink has faded on my hands. No one can connect me with this any more.’

‘
What do you mean?’

‘
She will look to remove me, because I know.’ Hilda trembled.

‘
Others will soon know too.’

‘
What do you mean? Who are you?’

‘
Does Prioress Ethelburga know the bottle is here?’ asked Therese.

‘
No. No she doesn’t.’

‘
Then put it back, Sister Hilda. All will be well. I will tell no one if you keep your secret a little longer and you must tell no one about this or about me.’

‘
Are you sure you can make this right?’

‘
Soon, Sister Hilda.’

The bottle slid back inside its hiding place and the loose brick was put in over the top. The two nuns returned to their beds to catch a little sleep before the next set of prayers. As Therese snuggled down she smiled to herself. At last there was real proof of Ursula’s story. There had been the ink on the tower wall. But that might have easily been explained away. And then there was Agnes’s story, so closely confirming Ursula’s. But she could be dismissed by some as she was a close friend of Ursula’s. No. This was hard evidence, not offered, but found from a reluctant witness.

And, Sister Aelfgyth had noted Hilda’s suspicious behaviour and passed that note to her in the egg basket. No doubt Aelfgyth was defending her friend Sister Winifred, who’d had the position of Prioress snatched from her. This complication seemed to have arisen due to ambitions for power among members of this small community. So if it wasn’t Prioress Ethelburga or Sister Hilda who were in league with the Impostor, thought Therese, who was it?

Chapter 13

Eleanor looked up from her script. She felt quite naked without head covering as she watched the other monks stooped over their work. Being Brother James of Caen had not been as difficult as she’d thought it would be. The Rule of St Benedict, which they lived by, was the same, although here it was kept more rigorously than most of the English priories she’d visited.

Ursula had arranged for the letter of introduction to say that Brother James was excellent at colouring so she would gain access to the scriptorium. But letters of any significance were not elaborately coloured so she found herself painting glorious patterns, animals and plants around the edges of pages for a psalter. However, Brother David seemed pleased with her work and paid little attention to the person who was creating it. And she’d become used to the smell of the ink and the various tinctures–though she tried to sit near the door, which was left open on warm days, to get as much fresh air as she could.

A week had already gone by and she had completed plenty of pictures but she had nothing of significance to show for her presence here. The bell rang for noon prayers and the monks rose. She opened the door and descended the steps into the cloister. They entered the church through the cloister door.

Some of the laity had clearly braved the building works to join them and Eleanor couldn’t resist a sideways glance to see who was there. Her heart seemed to spin in her chest. Prince Rufus, with his crop of blazoning red hair, stood in the centre aisle, his guard of three knights slightly behind him.

The chanting rose and fell melodically, but Eleanor could not find a “Brother James” singing voice, so mimed. She could no longer see the Prince and his guard due to an altar screen, but on leaving she saw him cross the cloister to speak to Archbishop Lanfranc, resplendent in his purple robe. She stopped to adjust her sock and sandal. The two men were talking so quietly Eleanor could hardly hear them. She leaned forward to listen. She stayed like this until her elbow was gripped and her arm was jerked sharply. Perhaps one of the Prince’s guards had come up behind her. If she were to die now she could help no one. She tried to control her rising panic. She toppled slightly, stumbled and regained her balance, while being propelled along the walkway. She managed to turn and see the person who’d arrested her. He was a large monk, cloaked and cowled. Her fear subsided slightly. She heard the Prince call his guards to him by their names: Simon, Roger and Ralph. On looking back she could not work out which was which although one was taller than the other two and without their helmets she could see one of the shorter ones was quite fair in colouring. The large monk at her elbow propelled her out to the infirmary before he stopped. At least she knew how to deal with this sort of enemy.

‘
I will say, Brother James, that you were taken ill,’ said Brother Matthew, lowering his hood.

Eleanor looked at his feet. She should have looked before. They were unmistakable. She smiled.

‘
Anyone would think you were spying on the Prince and the Bishop loitering like that. The Prince’s guard were giving you some very long suspicious looks, especially the blonde one, Simon.’ Brother Matthew frowned at her.

She wondered if he recognised her, but she spoke in her “Brother James” voice anyway.

‘
Which of the Prince’s guards is Roger?’

‘
The tall one,’ answered Brother Matthew.

That made Ralph the shorter, brown haired one, thought Eleanor.

‘
You ask a lot of questions about people who should not concern you,’ complained Matthew.

‘
I am just fascinated by royalty,’ she said like an awe-struck novice.

‘
It is best to keep away from royalty. Power creates turmoil. Any rift between people can be prized open by their so-called advisors for their own advantage.’

‘
Does Prince Rufus seek advice from the Archbishop?’ she asked.

‘
Among others, Brother James. But he is not one of those types of advisors I have mentioned. He is a clever man, but a good one too.’

‘
I understand the Archbishop favours Prince Rufus over his elder brother for King of England?’ She inflected her voice making a question out of the statement.

‘
I think that is only because the Conqueror himself is in favour of this arrangement. What the King wishes, will be the rule of law.’ Brother Matthew went to enter the infirmary, he paused. ‘Brother James, I would not wear those socks if I were you. It is not usual here and you will be asked to remove them.’

‘
I have bad feet. They need to be covered.’ Eleanor could not keep the irritation inspired by his nosiness out of her voice.

‘
I have not seen you lame.’

‘
But I will be if I do not keep my feet warm,’ she said, now feeling defensive.

Brother Matthew frowned again. ‘Let me see your feet.’

Eleanor looked at him. He was examining her hairless face. She wondered if she could trust him. ‘Ah well,’ she sighed in her own voice while she sat on the step. She took off her socks and showed him her dainty feet.

‘
Abbess Eleanor?’

‘
Yes, I’ve been a bit of a fool. I thought I could come here as a monk and find out what was going on. I guessed there might be some trickery between Archbishop Lanfranc and Prince Rufus, but, of course, there cannot be. If the Archbishop is an honourable man, as you say, and Rufus is recognised as heir by his father there is no reason for discord.’

‘
I will not ask for the details of your being here, Abbess. But I think your instincts are right. I am sure there has been an excessive amount of comings and goings here lately by the Prince. And, no doubt these matters need looking into but, even so, I have to say I think your behaviour is extraordinary. You take such risks in dressing in this manner and taking on the role of a monk.’

‘
Others have taken more risks than me,’ said Eleanor.

He looked at her steadily as if there was no void between them of hierarchy or sex, examining her intent and her constancy. ‘I think you ought to stay and see what is going on. It may be relevant to you as well as to us.’

‘
Why should such things bother you, Brother Matthew?’

‘
Everyone has been worrying themselves about it. They are concerned for the church’s treasure. Christ Church Abbey draws a considerable income. Kings often like to take to themselves what was given to the church. And Princes are not always patient about waiting for crowns.’

‘
You talk of treason.’

‘
I am not making any accusations, Abbess. I just appreciate your interest. It gives me an incentive to look further myself and I will tell you all I find out. Between us we should be able to make some sense of it. Hopefully I will be able to put my brothers’ minds at rest.’

‘
If I am to stay what am I to do about my feet and my socks?’ she asked.

‘
I will give you a note from the infirmarer saying that you have to wear them for your health. Hopefully that will cover the issue.’

Prioress Ethelburga was reading the morning’s chapter from St Benedict while Therese sat on her hands so she would not be seen wringing them as hard as sodden washing, for that is what she wanted to do. The chapter house seemed too small for what was inside her head. Frustrations were building inside her until the tension made her want to scream, but she could not. That would cause chaos and prejudice her investigations. And that was her main frustration. She may have been back sweeping the sewing room, but she was doing it when all the nuns had left – and Sister Gertrude was back as her guide. But Sister Hilda had not left her conscience. A week had passed since Therese had promised her a resolution and so Hilda was still waiting to be made safe from Sister Ethelburga’s machinations. Therese had made no more progress.