Threads of Treason (24 page)

Eleanor heard the battle well before she could see it as she rode up the hill on the white horse. She wasn’t sure who was fighting whom, but knew she could not afford to be cautious: Therese was in danger.

Bishop Odon must be among them. On getting closer she realised that most of the large band of mounted men were not fighting. There were just eight and these were no longer on their horses, but slogging it out with swords on the ground. She ordered Sir Gilbert’s horse into the centre of the fighting where two men, one with hair the colour of fire the other with red in much softer tones, had discarded their weapons and were mauling, wrestling and punching each other. Their exhaustion was obvious as they staggered at each other with grim determination.

‘
Stop it!’ ordered Eleanor with the full authority of her status of Abbess. ‘This is no time for fighting among ourselves.’ The two young men separated as did the other fighters. She directed a severe look at Bishop Odon whom she located just beyond the fight in the watching group.

‘
I heartily agree,’ he said. ‘I was about to stop it myself.’

‘
I think, Bishop, you were enjoying the entertainment,’ accused Eleanor. ‘We must get to the Priory of St Thomas. I have received word that the embroidery is in danger this very night.’ She did not say Therese, for she could not tell the Bishop what danger she’d placed his ward in.

The fighters silently mounted their war-horses and at Odon’s command the whole troop wheeled round and headed towards The Priory of St Thomas.

* * *

Coming round Therese felt dizzy. Through a fog she heard Hilda asking, ‘Do you want to save the last panel?’ Therese felt herself being dragged into the sewing room. She went to pull away but her hands were tied behind her back. ‘Well, you can die in here with it. I will get one panel now and then I’ll fetch the others and pile them onto the flames.’

It was clear to Therese that Hilda was unaware of the help she’d had moving them. She smiled; at least she’d succeeded in saving the embroidery.

‘
You think I can’t get them. Did someone help you move them? All the nuns here are Anglo-Saxon. Do you think they would deny me access to the panels, my own countrywomen?’

By this time Hilda had tied her to the leg of the embroidery stand. Therese hoped Agnes and Eric would return the embroidered panels to their rightful owner, Odon de Bayeux. But she could not be sure they would. Therese strained at her bindings. She’d expected to uncover the traitor before any harm would be done, but she’d been so gullible. It was as if Hilda read her mind.

‘
You can’t help being young,’ she said.

Indignation filled Therese’s lungs with hot air. She felt strength returning to her arms and legs. She grabbed hold of the leg of the embroidery stand she was tied to, gathered her feet up underneath her and heaved it up, pushing it away from her and releasing her bindings from it at the same time. Hilda leapt back out of the way of the crashing wood. She stared at the mess of broken frame and torn fabric. Therese followed her gaze and her heart sank. She knew she was too late – there were flames licking about the material and almost immediately they were spreading to the linen window screens, the dry rush seating of the needle-women’s stools and then the straw in the wattle and daub partitions.

Hilda reached for a candle and rushed at Therese, who still had her hands tied. So she charged at Hilda with her head down like a bull. They crashed onto the floor into the centre of the burning room. Somehow Hilda moved and Therese fell heavily without her arms to break the fall and Hilda pushed her out of the way and headed for the secret room, which was still free of the fire, although the screen that had stood in front of it was now aflame. Therese recovered and was soon on her feet. She could not fight effectively with her hands tied. She spotted a jagged nail sticking out of the top of the leg she’d been tied to, where it had come away from the embroidery frame, which had rolled away and was already engulfed by the inferno. The nail was hot and seared through her bindings.

Again she threw all her remaining strength at Hilda. And this time took her down too quickly for her opponent to twist out of it, so Hilda took the brunt of the fall and was knocked out. Therese started to drag her up to the gallery. They could both still escape from being burnt to death by going down the stone stairway. Hilda stirred. Therese looked round. The fire was already in the secret room and rapidly approaching them. Once it took the gallery they would not have a chance. Hilda clearly realised this as she pulled back on Therese, wrapping her arms about her legs.

‘
We’ll die together,’ she hissed.

‘
We will not die. The truth must be known.’

‘
I know all I need to know,’ said Hilda, taking Therese down.

At that moment the fire reached the top of the timber gallery steps and the supports, the gallery fell away taking Hilda with it. Therese found her own body still on the remaining piece of gallery floor but her legs were hanging down into nothing but flame and scorching hot air. She dragged each leg up onto the platform cautiously, reached into the hole and pulled herself through. Her height meant that by dropping down and holding onto the edge of the hole in the stonework the drop onto the stairs was not enough to hurt her. She even missed landing on the panel she’d dropped through not long before. Picking it up, she ran down the winding stairs and was soon out in the kitchen yard. There was no sign of Agnes, Eric or the rest of the panels, but a spark from the sewing room had clearly reached the dry kitchen building and it was already afire. So she turned into the cloister.

It was full of builders with buckets of soil and water trying to douse the flames. Among them were the remaining nuns, sleeves rolled up, covered in sweat and filth. Therese looked along the line till she spotted Agnes.

‘
Where’s Eric?’ she asked her.

‘
He’s gone in after you, just now. I tried to stop him.’

‘
Which way?’

‘
By the chapter house.’

Therese took Agnes’s bucket and tipped it over herself.

‘
No, don’t go, Sister,’ Agnes pleaded. ‘I couldn’t bear to lose both of you.’

One of the builders took off a cloak soaked it in water and gave it to her. Therese took it and went back into the burning building.

Eleanor saw the flames as did the others when they breasted the hillside by the builders’ camp. It was deserted and they could hear the shouts of many men and women trying to fight the fire at the priory. It had clearly not reached the gatehouse or the church. Bishop Odon rushed out ahead rapidly followed by Eleanor and the others. Still she dared not utter the name of her charge. At the stream a human chain was formed bucketing water and handing it along to the priory.

Once through the gatehouse she dismounted and ran into the cloister where the most noise was coming from. The sound of crackling and the roar of a hungry fire crowded out normal speech. Everyone was shouting instructions, but it was being done with a stoic orderliness.

‘
Abbess Eleanor,’ called someone from the line.

Eleanor turned and looked. It was a tall nun. She did not know her well, but guessed it was probably Sister Agnes. ‘Yes, Sister,’ she replied.

‘
Sister Therese is in there,’ said Sister Agnes.

‘
What’s that?’ said Bishop Odon. He was at Eleanor’s shoulder. ‘Who’s in there?’

Eleanor felt as if the fire itself had rushed through her and torched her mind and body. Her spirit was burnt out. She walked towards the flames. Odon stopped her.

Chapter 23

Odon saw Edgar rush towards the burning building, but before the young man could enter it the stooped figure of Therese came out. Her cloak formed a halo of flames above her head. She flung it off, but her habit had also caught fire. Edgar pushed her to the ground and rolled her in the soil of the unplanted garden in the centre of the cloister. He kicked dust over her hem.

The Bishop started to go over to her. At least, he thought, she’d had the good sense to save herself. As he helped her up she opened her arms and a boy ran out, his whole being blackened by smoke. Abbess Eleanor was the other side of Therese and the girl collapsed into her arms. Odon felt rage grip him. How dare this boy endanger Therese! ‘Arrest the child,’ he directed a guard nearby, and the boy was taken away.

A horseman rode through the cloisters and into the central area. ‘Your Grace, I have checked the perimeter of the priory and there are panels of embroidery stacked behind the southern wall. The building is well alight, Your Grace. I don’t think it can be saved.’

Odon nodded. ‘Move the embroidery away to a place of safety – the builders’ tents – and get everyone out of here before masonry starts falling.’

Out on the hill Odon found Sister Agnes by his side watching the building burn.

‘
Sisters Maude and Mabel got the animals out, Your Grace,’ she said curtseying.

Odon looked at her. She was another of these Anglo-Saxons. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted them with such an important job, but their embroidery skills were renowned across the continent.

‘
I see you have taken the embroidery to safety.’

‘
That is none of your business,’ snapped Odon.

‘
But you have arrested little Eric and he helped me save it.’

‘
You Anglo-Saxons are all in this together. You knew there were thieves coming, you and the boy, and you left the embroidery panels behind the kitchen wall for them.’ Any friendship he’d felt for these people withered away as Sister Agnes cried,

‘
You are mistaken, Your Grace.’

‘
Take this one and place her with the boy,’ he said to his guard. ‘She will be held under arrest with the others. ‘Your thieves did not come, Sister. They heard me and fled.’ As the guard dragged her from him he added, ‘Ursula, your ex-prioress, will join you in prison, so you won’t be alone.’

‘
Your Grace, please listen,’ groaned Sister Agnes.

‘
You will all have your chance to speak, but not today. I will hold an inquiry into this, and those that have done wrong will be punished.’

As soon as she was awake Therese had to tell Abbess Eleanor everything. She was comfortable in the Abbess’s bed at St Augustine’s. She couldn’t remember having had cushions before. Her run in with Sister Hilda seemed as if it had been a bad dream and that was how she intended to keep it. The Abbess seemed horrified at her tales, and that Therese quite enjoyed too. But when she asked about Ursula and Eric, Abbess Eleanor patted her hand sadly and said,

‘
Later.’ And then more brightly she said, ‘The remaining embroidery panels are already on their way to Bayeux.’

‘
Now I want to hear everything that has happened to you!’ Therese realised how forward and disrespectful she’d been almost as soon as the words left her mouth, so she smiled apologetically.

The Abbess took the apology. ‘I will tell you everything,’ she said. ‘Even about an episode I am most ashamed of, when I dressed as a monk.’ Therese watched her elder’s face redden and then Abbess Eleanor sat for an age on the edge of her bed filling her in on every detail of her investigations. It was lovely just to hear her voice and enjoy the trust of this woman she thought so much of.

As she finished the door burst open and Brother David entered. He was carrying papers, scrolls rolled up under his arm, and he seemed disorientated. His steps wove towards the bed despite the Abbess yelling at him to leave.

‘
You are at St Augustine’s not Christchurch. This is my room and you have no right to come in.’

He shook his head, and as he turned to go, Therese tweaked the paper at the centre of the loose roll of documents under his arm. While the Abbess took him out of the room she quickly read it. The words made little sense to her, and as the Abbess returned she laid them on her bed as if they’d just fallen there. This spy thing would be difficult to get out of, she decided.

‘
He says he’s left a paper,’ said Abbess Eleanor, and under her breath she said, ‘He’s drunk.’ She took the document off the bed and Therese asked her,

‘
Could I see Ursula or Eric?’

‘
I’m sorry Therese. They’ve been arrested along with Sister Agnes.’

‘
Why?’

‘
Bishop Odon’s got it into his head that they were involved in a plot to steal and destroy the embroidery.’

Therese started to get out of bed.

‘
No, Sister. There is nothing you can do today. Tomorrow the Bishop holds his enquiry at Christ Church Abbey. We will be there. I have Bishop Odon’s word on that.’

As Therese entered the hall Brother Richard of Caen went past. He nodded politely and she and the Abbess beside her returned the compliment. Therese noticed Abbess Eleanor blush.

‘
Go in, go in,’ urged the Abbess as she looked at her curiously. ‘I told you that I was posing as a Brother from Caen – where he comes from!’ she hissed.