Alys Clare - Heart of Ice

‘Off you go,’ Helewise prompted.

And then Sister Euphemia obeyed. Without a backward glance, she strode away up the path and was soon attacking the slope that led up to the rear gate.

Helewise watched her. As she did so, she slowly rolled up her wide sleeves, baring her strong hands and forearms. Then she returned to the Vale infirmary, gently tugged at Sister Caliste’s sleeve to wake her up and led the way inside.

‘I shall call for volunteers later today,’ she said quietly. ‘In the meantime, find me an apron, please, Sister Caliste, and instruct me in what I must do.’

Sister Caliste’s mouth fell open. ‘ You , my lady?’

‘Yes,’ Helewise agreed. ‘If you are agreeable, Sister, I would be honoured to be a member of your nursing team.’

She hid her amusement as, with a number of expressions flitting across her lovely face, Sister Caliste hurried to obey. Shortly afterwards, with her veil pinned back so that it did not fall forward as she bent over patients, a large white apron enveloping her from shoulders to shins and her rolled-up sleeves tied securely, Helewise followed Sister Caliste down the long room and was introduced to the full horrors of the foreign pestilence.

Word spread around the community well before Helewise made her announcement. By the time the request for volunteer nurses was read out, nuns, monks and lay brothers in all areas of the Abbey’s work had asked themselves whether they had the courage to answer the summons. They all knew the risk: lurid descriptions of some of the more ghastly deaths were circulating and nobody was in any doubt that nurses could become sick just like everyone else did.

Helewise had asked that anyone willing to join the nursing team was to present her- or himself in front of the Abbey church after Sext. Emerging from the church after the community had left — she had stayed behind to send up a brief private prayer that her scheme would work — the sight that met her astonished eyes was all but unbelievable.

With the exception of those whose duties were all-consuming, everyone in the Hawkenlye community was there; the open space in front of the church was so crowded that they stood shoulder to shoulder. Right at the back, tall between Brother Saul and Brother Augustus, stood Josse.

Helewise made to speak but her voice broke. Clearing her throat, she tried again. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Bless you all. We-’ But emotion was rising in her too powerfully for her to contain it; Sister Caliste, reading the situation, hurried to her side and whispered, ‘My lady? May I help?’

Helewise smiled, briefly touching the younger nun’s hand. ‘Stand beside me, please,’ she whispered. ‘Summon Sister Tiphaine and Sister Emanuel, if you would.’

While the three nuns walked across to stand beside her, Helewise took the time to compose herself. Then, her voice pitched strongly to carry to the back of the crowd, she outlined the new arrangements. When she had finished — she would leave it to her three team leaders to arrange the details — she said, ‘We will strive together, with God’s help, to do all that we can to defeat this evil that has come to us. We shall be as one, an instrument for good in our heavenly father’s hands. We will support each other and our own wishes will be put aside. We shall not let this thing get the better of us!’ Sensing the mood change as, with the light of battle in their eyes, people took up the idea of a fight, she cried, ‘We shall not be defeated!’

And from the ranks of nuns, monks and lay brothers before her, a great cheer went up.

The euphoria carried the community through the rest of the day. Those who were the first to take on new nursing duties were sorely in need of it for, as Helewise had discovered earlier, the brutal realities of caring for people suffering from this particular disease were not for the squeamish.

Sister Caliste’s team were to work until Vespers, after which Sister Tiphaine’s team would take over. Helewise spent the first part of her afternoon giving sips of the herbalist’s febrifuge to some of the recovering patients. Then, quite sure that Sister Caliste was saving her from the more arduous duties, she asked to be put to something else. After a short debate with her conscience — she was quite sure her Abbess would go on asking until she got what she wanted — Sister Caliste nodded meekly and said, ‘One of the dying requires a wash and a change of linen, my lady. If you would please follow me?’

Helewise had only herself to blame; summoning all her strength, she ordered herself not to let her revulsion show. The patient was a woman of about forty and could not have been in good health even before the sickness struck, for her emaciated body was covered in suppurating sores and there were the clear signs of lice infestation in the hair of her head and body. Her eyes were closed, the lids gummed with some sort of foul residue, and her toothless jaws seemed to have fallen in upon themselves. As if aware of her superior’s struggle and wishing to help, Sister Caliste drew her attention by saying very softly, ‘We do not know her name, my lady, for she was far gone when she was brought here. We have observed that those already weak succumb the fastest.’

Helewise was horrified in case the dying woman should hear. ‘Sister, should we speak in this way before her?’ she whispered back.

Sister Caliste paused in her washing of the woman’s thighs and buttocks to stare up at the deadly white face. Reaching out to touch the sunken cheek with a gentle hand, she said, ‘I do not think she can hear, my lady.’

That touch, and indeed her own reaction, somehow made the task easier for Helewise; it was as if the combination of the two things turned the dying woman from a filthy, stinking body back into a human being. Confidence surged through her; taking the wash cloth from Sister Caliste, she said, ‘I will finish cleaning her and making her comfortable, Sister. When I have finished, I will come to find you to be given my next task.’

Sister Caliste nodded and left. Then Helewise, all disgust gone, went back to her patient. Keeping her voice low, she began to talk to her. ‘There, I’ll just finish washing you down there — oh, but that looks sore! Perhaps I can find something to soothe the poor skin — and then I can roll you back on to a clean sheet. . Now that’s better, isn’t it? Nice and cool on your hot skin. We’ll have a new piece of cloth and I’ll sponge your face. . and smooth out your hair. Then when we’ve finished, I’ll tuck you up and leave you in peace.’

It was probably her imagination, Helewise told herself, but she almost thought that, just for an instant, the dying woman’s mouth twitched into a smile.

Helewise’s last task before her team was relieved was to tend the thatcher and his young son who had been brought in the previous day. Contrary to Sister Euphemia’s prediction, the boy was still alive, although very sick and with a fever so high that he seemed to be on fire. The father had not moved from his son’s bedside and Helewise was hoping to persuade him to have some rest.

She walked over to the cot where the boy lay and at her approach the father got to his feet.

‘Please, sit down.’ Helewise said. ‘You too are sick, are you not?’

The man resumed his place at his son’s head. ‘I thought I was yesterday,’ he admitted, ‘but today the fever’s gone and so has the headache.’ He managed a weak grin. ‘Reckon I must be tougher than I look.’

Helewise studied him. He was of average height, fair haired, dark eyed, and appeared to have a wiry strength that might indeed imply a resilient constitution. ‘You are a thatcher, are you not?’ she asked.

‘Aye, Sister. Name’s Catt. This is my son Pip.’ He stroked the boy’s sweat-darkened hair back from his pale face.