Alys Clare - Whiter than the Lily

‘Oh, dear!’ Helewise had not appreciated that Ambrose Ryemarsh was sick; was the purpose of his visit, then, more than to take the waters and pray for a child?

‘Will it be all right for Sister Euphemia to put the lord Ambrose in the infirmary?’ Saul was asking anxiously. ‘It’s so full at present and strictly speaking the old feller’s not really ill, only-’

‘Of course it’s all right!’ Helewise gave Saul a reassuring smile. ‘The infirmary is Sister Euphemia’s province and I would not dream of questioning her judgement.’

‘Aye, my lady,’ Saul said, with a smile that seemed to say, course you wouldn’t.

They were hurrying on down the path when they saw someone approaching across the short grass over to their left. The figure was tall and strongly built and, until she could make out details of dress, Helewise took it to be a man.

But it was a woman.

Her gown and veil were of dark cloth and she wore a close-fitting linen wimple. Her face was pale, the expression joyless. But it was the eyes that Helewise noticed; wide under pale brows and lashes, they were of the palest green, like thick ice on a pond that is tinged with the colour of what lies beneath.

For some reason, Helewise felt a shudder go up her spine. Rather more curtly than perhaps necessary, she said, ‘Yes? Can we help you?’

The woman frowned. Then, in a strangely toneless voice, she said, ‘I am Aebba. I serve the lady Galiena. I am come with the lord her husband to join her here and in time to see her safely back to her home.’

Helewise glanced at Saul to see how he might be responding to this strange woman. He was staring at her intently, a look of puzzlement on his face.

‘What were you doing out there in the grass?’ Helewise asked, trying to make her voice sound pleasant and non-accusatory.

The woman stared at her for a moment. Then she said, ‘I was praying in the Abbey church. For the lady, you know, that what she desires be granted to her. Then I set out to find the Vale, where they tell me the lord Ambrose rests, but I missed the path.’

Helewise was just wondering how anybody with eyes in their head could possibly miss the well-marked path to the Vale when Saul gave a sort of gasp and began, ‘But-’

Instantly Aebba stepped on to the path, elbowed Saul out of the way and said curtly, ‘I must go to the master. Please show me the way.’

After a brief hesitation, Helewise gave a slight bow and said, ‘Certainly. Follow me, please,’ and led the way on down the path.

Other than accuse the woman directly of telling untruths, there was little else she could do. Very aware of Saul, walking behind Aebba and muttering softly to himself, she resolved to have a private word with him as soon as it could be arranged.

The moment that Helewise laid eyes on Ambrose she understood Sister Euphemia’s concern. The old man lay back against his tree, eyes closed, barely conscious, face pale and with a sheen of sweat. As the infirmarer greeted her and came to stand beside her, Helewise said softly, ‘Let us arrange for him to be installed in the infirmary, Sister. I have been unable to locate Galiena but I am sure that she must surely reappear soon — after all, she must realise that her remedies are just about ready for her and she may well be expecting Aebba to have arrived.’

‘Aebba?’

Helewise indicated the dour woman standing a few paces off, staring down at Ambrose with an unreadable expression on her face. ‘Galiena’s serving woman.’

‘Ah.’ The infirmarer made no further comment.

‘Can he walk?’ Helewise asked.

‘I reckon so, my lady, with help. Saul! Gus!’ she called, and immediately the two brothers hurried towards her. ‘Help the lord Ambrose to his feet, if you will, and get him up to the infirmary. I’ll go on ahead and prepare a bed for him.’

As Saul rushed to obey, Helewise caught at his sleeve. ‘Saul?’ she said quietly. ‘Why did you look so startled when the woman, Aebba, said she had been in the church?’

‘Oh, I’m sure I was mistaken, my lady, and that’s exactly where she was,’ he said instantly.

‘You thought you saw her elsewhere?’

‘Aye.’ Again, the puzzled frown. ‘I could have sworn I saw her hurrying away towards the forest.’

Where Galiena went, Helewise thought, thanking Saul and sending him on to help Ambrose. And, since several people seem to have known that’s where she ran off to, then it is quite possible that Aebba went to look for her.

And, frowning just as Saul had done, she wondered why.

It was some time before Helewise could go over to the infirmary to see how Ambrose was. A delegation of the Abbey’s marshland tenants had arrived while she was in the Vale and she had to see to the receipt and the recording of the money they brought with them as their contribution towards King Richard’s ransom. So preoccupied did she become with the visitors, their questions (‘Will we have to pay more, my lady? Only it’s hard, very hard, on us as are family men to meet these ’ere demands’) and their need to gossip (‘They do say as how ’e won’t be back and that Prince John’ll have to be king!) that she all but forgot about the infirmarer’s new patient.

Her heart went out to the marshmen. They were the Abbey’s tenants and she, as Abbess, had a fair idea of the circumstances of their lives. In common with everyone else in England, they had already had to give more than they could afford to finance the Lionheart’s crusade. Although Helewise understood why such an expensive campaign had been necessary, a part of her could not help wondering whether knights, lords and kings with the passion and the thrill of holy war filling their heads and hearts ought not to pause just for a moment to wonder if it was all worth it.

And now King Richard’s dreams of glory had come down to this: he was ignominiously imprisoned and his poor struggling people were going to have to reach into all but empty pockets to ransom him. Looking at the faces of the men standing nervously before her now, she pitied them deeply and would have helped them if she could.

But she could not.

She wanted to be able to say that the sum they had delivered today would undoubtedly suffice. She wanted to tell them to go home and work as hard as they could in an attempt to make up what they had been forced to give away. She wanted to reassure them that what they now could put by, from their own increased efforts, would be theirs alone.

But if she gave those reassurances — which were not hers to give — then what if some further calamity occurred? What if King Richard again called upon his people?

It was almost unthinkable, but then the unthinkable did sometimes happen.

When at last she had seen the marshmen on their way, the afternoon was over and it was time for Vespers. As soon as the office was over, she went straight across to the infirmary.

A harassed young nun in a bloodstained apron bowed to her and, in answer to her query, led her along to the small curtained recess where Ambrose lay. Dismissing the nun — Helewise could see she was desperate to get back to whichever patient’s blood had flowed out so freely all over her stiff linen apron — Helewise drew back the curtain slightly and went into the dimly lit recess.

There was a delicious, sweet smell on the air — sniffing, Helewise tried to identify it. Then she looked down at the bed. Ambrose lay with his eyes half-closed, an expression of peace on his face.

For one dreadful heartbeat, Helewise thought he was dead.

But he must have sensed her presence; opening his eyes, he peered up at her and said, ‘Galiena?’

She moved quickly forward and took the hand that he held out. It was bony, knotted and misshapen, but the skin felt smooth, almost as if it had been oiled. ‘No, my lord, it is Helewise, Abbess of Hawkenlye,’ she said softly.