Alys Clare - Whiter than the Lily

‘Quite right, Brother Firmin. It was good advice. And what happened next?’

‘Well, my lady, you won’t credit it, a soft-spoken, kindly, charitable, understanding lady like yourself, but she shouted at him!’ Brother Firmin bridled as he spoke, his thin old face flushing with indignation. ‘She cried out, can’t you see I want to be alone? Then she said to get out and take his bucket with him!’

‘Dear me, how very distressing for poor Saul!’ Helewise exclaimed.

‘It was, aye, it was,’ Firmin agreed. ‘Brother Saul isn’t used to folks shouting at him, especially not when he’s trying to help. Of course, it would have put her off her prayers, having someone cleaning the steps so close to her, but there you are, these jobs must be done.’

‘Indeed they must,’ Helewise agreed. ‘And she stayed in the chapel all day, you say?’

‘Aye, and she’s back there today!’ Brother Firmin’s pale old eyes were wide with astonishment. Then, dropping to a whisper, he added, ‘If she doesn’t get herself with child after all that praying, then I reckon the good Lord must have his reasons agin it!’

‘Such things are for God alone to decide,’ she said gently. ‘We must not speculate, Brother Firmin.’

‘No, my lady, of course not, and I wasn’t, not really, I just meant-’

‘Not to worry,’ Helewise said smoothly. ‘Thank you for telling me, but let us speak of it no more. Now, about the elderly pilgrim who has just died …’

And, for some time more, she and the old monk turned to discussing matters over which she, at least, felt she had rather more control.

I must, she decided later, speak to Galiena. She has come for our help and we are freely giving it — she had checked and Sister Euphemia confirmed that yes, she and the herbalist had made two different remedies for Galiena to take and that they were all but ready — yet she makes no use of that other great solace that we offer to those who are troubled. Yes, she prays alone, or so I am told, but she shows no desire to worship with our community.

To Helewise, who had found when severely tried that the regular offices punctuating the day were her greatest comfort and support, the idea of someone in sore need not attending them was so strange as to be unfathomable. I will find her and invite her to pray with us, she decided. Perhaps she does not realise that it is permitted! The thought, striking all of a sudden, hit Helewise as a likely explanation.

Feeling guilty that she had not made sure Galiena knew all the relevant details of Abbey life, Helewise hurried on her way.

Galiena was in the shrine, just as Brother Firmin had reported. As Helewise quietly descended the steps — Saul was quite right, they did indeed need a good clean — the young woman spun round and, from behind the concealing veil, cried out, ‘For the love of God, am I not to be left alone?’ Then, seeing who it was, she lowered her voice a shade and said rather grudgingly, ‘Oh, it’s you, Abbess Helewise.’

‘Yes,’ Helewise agreed. Trying to keep her irritation under tight control, she said, ‘I am told, Galiena, that you have spent many hours in here on your own.’

‘It’s allowed, isn’t it?’ the girl asked truculently.

‘Of course,’ Helewise said smoothly. ‘But, understanding as I do what it is that you pray for, since you yourself have told me, I wonder if you might rather join the community in our devotions? You would be most welcome and, if I did not make this clear to you when we spoke before, then I am sorry.’

Galiena did not respond for a moment. Her face was still shaded by the heavy veil and Helewise could not see her expression. Eventually she spoke.

‘I thank you for the invitation, my lady, but I prefer to be alone.’ Her tone, Helewise thought, was a little strange; almost as if she were having to force herself to be polite whereas in fact her inclination was quite otherwise.

But I am being fanciful, Helewise reproved herself. It is probably just as Sister Euphemia said: this poor young woman is embarrassed at her inability to conceive and does not wish the world to know that she seeks help. What could be more understandable? And the Lord and his Holy Mother can hear her pleas as well down here in the shrine as up above in the Abbey church.

‘As you wish,’ she said. Galiena had turned her head slightly and Helewise found herself addressing the girl’s veiled cheek. ‘We will pray for you,’ she added. ‘Or, if you prefer that your personal matters are not made public, then I shall intercede on your behalf but in such a way that only God hears.’

Galiena murmured something; it might have been her thanks. But now she was sitting almost with her back to Helewise and it was difficult to be sure.

‘The infirmarer tells me that the remedies she and Sister Tiphaine have prepared for you are ready,’ Helewise went on. ‘I understand that it is your intention to set off for Ryemarsh as soon as you can?’

‘Yes,’ Galiena said shortly.

‘Do you wish me to send someone with you to act as your escort?’ Putting that duty upon Brother Saul, or perhaps young Brother Augustus, would mean extra work for the other monks, Helewise reflected, but she could hardly send the young woman off alone.

But Galiena shook her head. ‘No need,’ she said. ‘My maidservant will come for me.’

‘How will she know when to come?’ Helewise asked, puzzled. ‘She surely cannot guess the time that you are ready to start for home and-’

‘She’ll come,’ Galiena repeated, in such a way as to suggest that she did not wish to continue the conversation. ‘And now, my lady Abbess, if I may be excused, I would like to return to my prayers.’

Sensing herself very firmly dismissed, Helewise swallowed her pride — it all but choked her — went back up the slippery steps and out through the door.

By the evening of that day, Helewise’s resolve to think charitable thoughts about Galiena Ryemarsh and her problems was wearing very thin. Besides her indignation at the way in which the girl had addressed her, she also found herself dwelling on the question of just how Galiena could be so unreasonably certain that her maidservant would come for her. She must surely have sent word somehow, Helewise thought, frowning, but with whom?

The only conclusion that she reached — and she felt it to be a feeble one — was that Galiena had found some departing visitor to the shrine whose way home went close to Ryemarsh and she had paid them to make the detour. She was on the point of setting out to the Vale once more to see if she could verify this assumption when, on going out of her room and into the cloister, she realised that the long June day was at last coming to a close and it was getting dark.

She had been sitting brooding in her room for far longer than she had realised. It was too late now to go asking questions of the monks who would, she was quite sure, have settled down for the night.

As indeed I should have done too, she thought, yawning hugely and not bothering to put a polite hand in front of her mouth. It was rather nice to be alone and not to have to worry about her manners …

Walking slowly across the courtyard towards the dormitory, she reassured herself with the happy thought that Galiena Ryemarsh would probably be leaving Hawkenlye the next day and, with any luck, Helewise would never have to see her again.

Galiena might have wished as fervently as Helewise that an early departure be accomplished. However, it was not to be. Well might the girl have been observed (by Sister Ursel, the porteress, and Sister Martha, who tended the stables) peering anxiously up the road to see if there were any sign of her maidservant coming to escort her home. But the maidservant did not appear. In any case, even had she arrived as early as her mistress began looking out for her, Galiena could not have left with her there and then. The second potion was not yet ready.