Alys Clare - Heart of Ice

Saul’s eyes filled with tears and he shook his head.

All in all, it was not very good tidings for Josse to bear to the Abbess.

Helewise had been waiting for Josse for some time when he finally arrived and as he gave her the news from the Vale, she was aware of exhibiting a degree of impatience, for which she quickly apologised.

‘Please, think nothing of it, my lady,’ he said courteously, ‘I quite understand how you must feel.’

Oh, dear Josse, I don’t think you do, she thought ruefully. Then, deciding that it would do no good to hedge around what she had to say, that, in fact, such tactics would probably annoy him and increase the chances of a refusal, she said, ‘Sir Josse, you may have already been informed that yesterday Sister Tiphaine and Sister Euphemia made various attempts to harness the power of the Eye of Jerusalem in drinks and, for those too sick to swallow, in washes with which to bathe their wounds and their faces.’

He was watching her warily. ‘Aye. Brother Saul told me.’

‘Neither remedy had done any good by yesterday evening and, judging by your report, there have been no miraculous recoveries during the night.’

‘No.’ Now wariness had turned to something approaching hostility, as if he knew full well what was coming.

‘Sir Josse, will you try?’ Helewise implored. ‘Will you take back the Eye and use it to save those poor, suffering souls under Sister Euphemia’s care?’

He shook his head violently. ‘My lady, you know what I think about that stone! Why do you persist in asking me to try to use it when you are fully aware that I fear it?’

‘You fear giving it to your nieces!’ she cried. ‘It is not the same thing to try its power yourself!’

‘I gave it away!’ he shouted back. ‘I gave it to you — you are now its rightful owner, you and the sisters!’

‘But they have tried and failed! Oh, please, Josse, I’m begging you to help us!’

He glared at her but, as she watched, searching his angry face for any signs that he might yield, it seemed that his expression softened. ‘Do you really think it will make a difference if the Eye is wielded by my hand?’ he asked.

‘I-’ In truth, she had no idea. ‘Possibly,’ she said cautiously.

‘Well, that’s an honest answer,’ he said wryly. ‘Very well, my lady. I’ll have a go.’

Together they went down to the Vale. Brother Augustus hurried to the shrine and fetched another flask of the holy water. Josse pushed up his sleeves and, taking the Eye of Jerusalem from Sister Tiphaine with such an expression of distaste that, had the situation not been so grave, Helewise might have laughed, he dipped it into the water. He held it there for some time. Then Sister Tiphaine said quietly, ‘I reckon that’ll do it, sir. If you have the touch, it’ll have worked by now. If not. . ’ Tactfully she left the sentence unfinished.

Sister Anne was summoned and she disappeared into the shelter with the precious water.

They waited.

Later that morning, Sister Euphemia emerged from the temporary infirmary with blood on her apron and fatigue in her face. She located Josse, Helewise and Sister Tiphaine in the small shrine that housed the holy water spring. ‘The two women who arrived yesterday morning are dead,’ she said baldly. ‘That’s another motherless child to be taken care of,’ she added, half to herself.

‘The water did no good?’ Josse asked. Helewise, observing his stricken face, felt a wave of compassion for him.

‘No,’ Sister Euphemia said. ‘I’m sorry, Sir Josse. Looks like the Eye must have known you gave it away.’

‘Oh,’ he said lamely.

‘We had to try, Sir Josse!’ Helewise said, trying to rally him. ‘We could not have known that-’

But Josse was not to be consoled. ‘I am a coward and a fool,’ he muttered, scowling, ‘for we have in our very hands a jewel with the power to heal and by my actions I have rendered it useless.’ He bowed, first to Helewise and then to the herbalist and the infirmarer, who stood close together with similar looks of concern on their faces. ‘It is a heavy burden to bear,’ Josse added. ‘If you will excuse me, my lady’ — he had turned back to Helewise — ‘I shall take Horace out for a ride and think about how best I may make amends for my faults.’

Before she could say a word, he was off, hurrying away off up the path back to the Abbey.

The three nuns watched him until he was just a small, anonymous figure climbing up the steep path; the very way he was moving spoke of dejection and failure. Then Sister Euphemia said quietly, ‘Oh, dear.’

Helewise had been thinking hard, arguing with her conscience. She came to a decision.

As the infirmarer announced wearily that she must be getting back to her patients, Helewise lightly touched the arm of the herbalist. ‘Sister Tiphaine,’ she said, ‘walk with me, please.’ To her distress her voice was not quite steady. She took a breath and tried again. ‘I would speak with you on a private matter,’ she continued, very softly, ‘and we shall take the path beside the pond and continue until there is no danger of our being overheard.’

Sister Tiphaine’s eyes widened but, disciplined nun that she was, she bowed to her superior, muttered, ‘Of course, my lady,’ and, as Helewise strode away, fell into step behind her.

Helewise continued along the path until she reached the place where it began to curve around the end of the pond. Then, beneath the skeletal branches of a copse of winter-bare birch trees, she turned and faced the herbalist.

‘Sister Tiphaine,’ she began — she had been rehearsing what she would say as she walked — ‘you may or may not be aware that there is a prophecy concerning the Eye of Jerusalem, which was revealed to Sir Josse when the jewel came into his hands.’

‘Indeed, my lady?’ The herbalist’s face remained blank; if she was aware of any such thing, it appeared that she was not going to admit it to her Abbess.

Helewise sniffed. ‘Indeed,’ she repeated. ‘The Eye was presented to Josse’s father by some foreign prince in Outremer in gratitude for Sir Geoffroi having saved the man’s little son. It was lost — stolen, in fact — but in due course it found its way back to its rightful owner, who, Sir Geoffroi having died, was Sir Josse. At the time the Eye was presented to Sir Josse, it was predicted that one day it would go to a female descendant of Sir Josse’s who would have the power to bring the stone alive and awaken its full powers, which are apparently considerable and extend far beyond lowering fevers and testing for poison.’

‘Oh, aye, that they do,’ muttered the herbalist.

But Helewise, intent on what she was saying, barely registered the remark.

‘Now Sir Josse has no wife and no child,’ she continued, ‘and when he heard these words he was alarmed, because he thought, quite reasonably, that the man who spoke them was referring to one of his nieces; he has four brothers, Sister, and between them they have three little daughters. Or is it four?’ She frowned, trying to remember what Josse had told her. ‘No matter. Nieces there are, and Sir Josse greatly feared laying this extraordinary and frightening burden on to any one of them.’

‘He was right to be wary,’ observed Sister Tiphaine. ‘Such a thing should not fall into the wrong hands. For one thing, it would remain inert unless whoever holds it knows what she’s about.’

‘Quite, quite,’ said Helewise. Again, her preoccupation with the delicate matter she was trying to raise meant that she paid less than full attention to her herbalist’s comment, which, considering it revealed that Sister Tiphaine appeared to know more than a nun ought to about pagan power objects, was perhaps just as well.