Alys Clare - Girl In A Red Tunic

Helewise followed the young nun across the courtyard and into the infirmary. Sister Euphemia was waiting for her. ‘I’ve stemmed the bleeding at last,’ she said quietly, ‘but he’s weak. Only a brief word, my lady, if I might suggest, for he needs to rest.’

‘Very well, Sister,’ Helewise agreed.

Arthur Fitzurse, bedded down in clean linen, looked very pale and somehow diminished. His dark eyes turned to her as she approached. Moving to stand right beside his bed, she leaned down and said softly, ‘Sir Josse has ridden to Tonbridge to speak to Gervase de Gifford, but I want you to know that you are not to be accused of any crime in relation to having spirited me away to your mother’s house.’

Arthur stared into her eyes. ‘That is generous, my lady Abbess.’

She made a grimace. ‘Not really,’ she muttered. ‘I have bad tidings, Arthur,’ she went on. ‘The proof for which you have searched so hard has been found, although it is not what you think. The table in which Benedict Warin hid it is now in my possession and the document that he wrote was still in the hiding place where he put it.’

Arthur struggled to sit up but, with a gentle hand, she pressed him back. His eyes alight, he said eagerly, ‘Then you know that I spoke the truth! I am his son! I’m a Warin!’

‘No, Arthur,’ she said softly. ‘Benedict played your mother false. The injuries he received when he had his accident rendered him impotent; his manservant took his place and it was he who fathered you.’

The shock was easy to read in Arthur’s face. ‘But — but I cannot believe this! She would have known, surely she would!’

‘Apparently not, unless-’ Unless your mother has been lying to you all this time, she almost said. But that was too cruel. ‘She was very young,’ she said instead. ‘And consider the circumstances: the thrill of the forbidden, the danger of slipping out unseen to meet him, the dark little hut, a naked man. And Benedict and Martin were of similar build and not unalike. It is possible, I believe, that Sirida truly did not know that it was Martin and not Benedict who penetrated her.’

But Arthur was not to be readily convinced. ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘She told me what she wanted me to believe. What she wanted to believe herself, perhaps.’ He looked up at her. ‘My lady, she is clever, my mother. She would have calculated that Benedict Warin might have felt guilt over his deception. Even had she realised what he did, she would have gone on pretending she believed it was he who had her in that hut. It would not have served her interests or mine to confess to knowing what really happened.’

Helewise could not but think that he was right. Just as she was starting to admire him for the fortitude with which he was receiving this shattering news, his manner changed. His face seemed to crumple and, despair in his eyes, he said, ‘But to withhold the truth from me! To have me believe I was a Warin and to sit back and watch my efforts to prove it, knowing all along it was all make-believe!’

‘I am not convinced that Sirida deliberately misled you!’ Helewise protested. Dear God, the poor man had just been told that the man he had believed to be his father was no such thing; let him not also have to contend with his mother having lied to him!

But Arthur did not answer. He turned away from her and, as he closed his eyes, she saw tears leak from them and drop on to the spotless pillow.

There seemed nothing else to do but tiptoe away.

In the middle of the day Leofgar returned. Sister Ursel had been looking out for him and when the party came in sight, she sent word to Helewise, who hurried to the gates to meet him. With him came Rohaise — a smiling and suddenly beautiful Rohaise — and Timus, sitting in front of his father and whooping with delight.

Behind them, grumbling about her aching bones, was a very old, very plump woman on a sturdy bay pony. The years fell away and Helewise was a new bride, full of nervous excitement at taking on her husband’s household and servants; yes, dear old Elena had gone to the Old Manor with her but Elena, she had well known, loved her already; Magda was the one she’d had to win over …

She had succeeded. She’d grown to love Magda dearly, especially after Elena had died, and she knew that her feelings had been fully reciprocated.

Now, her eyes opening wide in amazement, Helewise cried out, ‘Magda! Is it really you?’ and, as the old woman’s round face creased into a joyful smile, Helewise ran forward to embrace her.

‘Looking every inch the Abbess, I might say,’ Magda observed as Helewise helped her down from her pony. ‘Thought I’d come and see for myself, young Helewise, whether all that I hear of you is true.’

‘And is it?’ Helewise asked, grinning.

Magda gave her a reverential bow. ‘Indeed, my lady Abbess.’

But Helewise heard her add, not quite sufficiently under her breath, ‘Still my Helewise underneath that black habit, I’ll warrant.’

Helewise greeted Rohaise and swept Timus off his feet into a cuddle, managing to hug him for at least the count of five before the little boy wriggled to be released. Laughing, Rohaise said, ‘Do not take it amiss, my lady; he is lively and restless from spending days shut away inside and he has energy to spend!’

Leofgar came to stand beside his mother. ‘We have been lodging with Magda, who has a little house in Tonbridge, on the edge of the town,’ he said quietly. ‘We could not go home when we left here in the middle of the night, for I feared that whoever had killed Teb Bell might find us there and could set out to harm us. So I went to Magda and she took us in. We have been there ever since.’

Helewise turned to the old woman and hugged her close. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

Magda nodded. But her smile was an indication of her pleasure and satisfaction. ‘All’s well now, Helewise,’ she whispered back. ‘See how the young wife looks? They’ve grown close, she and her husband, while they have been under my roof. She’ll do very well, now.’

The simple statement was enough, Helewise thought, studying the laughing, happy Rohaise as she chased Timus and then, pretending to be afraid, let him chase her. Something profound had altered; whatever malaise had sat so heavily upon her had lifted. And, with the threat to her husband and child gone, the true woman was emerging.

Yes, Helewise thought. She’ll do very well.

She made the time to tell Leofgar of her conversation with Arthur Fitzurse and, when Josse returned late in the afternoon, she told him too. He in turn reported that Gervase de Gifford sent his compliments and was delighted to hear that the Abbess had been returned safe and unharmed to Hawkenlye. ‘But he’s not satisfied that no crime has been done, my lady,’ Josse added with a frown. ‘He cannot see why these events have happened. I did not explain to him, for the secret is not mine to tell.’

‘I will explain, if necessary,’ she said. ‘If he comes asking, I will tell him what I must. Although when I think of Arthur’s despair, I realise how very reluctant I am to broadcast his shame further than I have to.’

‘De Gifford is discreet,’ Josse remarked. ‘He would not use against Arthur Fitzurse something that was not the poor man’s fault. Considerations such as that, however, would no doubt become irrelevant were de Gifford to accuse Arthur of Teb Bell’s murder. It is his duty as sheriff to bring to trial those believed to be guilty of such serious crimes and de Gifford would be failing in that duty if he allowed our pleadings for clemency to affect him.’

‘We could speak in Arthur’s defence, could we not, if he comes to trial?’

‘Indeed we could, my lady.’

‘But let us hope that de Gifford does not accuse him,’ she said fervently.