Alys Clare - Whiter than the Lily

Josse waited, leaning a shoulder comfortably against Horace and absently patting the horse’s neck. Hearing light footsteps from behind him, he turned and saw Audra hurrying across the courtyard.

‘My lady, I am sorry, I did not wish to disturb you to say goodbye-’ he began, but she held up a hand to stop him.

‘I wanted to speak to you before you leave, Sir Josse,’ she said. The light brown eyes were fixed on his and she added, ‘There is more to this than at first it seems, I think.’

Instantly he felt guilty. There was much that he had left out of his account: why had Galiena arrived alone? Why had she not told the Hawkenlye nuns that Ambrose would be joining her there? Why had she been so reluctant to be examined and helped by Sister Euphemia? Why had Josse been so disturbed by Brice’s strangely excited behaviour that day at Ryemarsh? And, most crucial of all, why had Galiena gone for treatment for her barrenness when she was already pregnant?

Aware that Audra was studying him closely, he said awkwardly, ‘My lady, I am sorry if you feel that I have been less than frank, but-’

Again she stopped him. This time, with a rueful smile, she said, ‘Oh, no, Sir Josse. It is not you that I accuse but us.’ Then, glancing around as if to ensure that they were alone — Raelf’s voice could be heard somewhere inside, calling out, ‘Jack! Jack! Where the devil has the lad got to now?’ — she said softly, ‘There are things that I believe you ought to be told.’

‘Ah. Oh.’ He did not know what to say.

Her smile deepened fleetingly as if she were amused at his confusion. But then her face straightened and, staring into his eyes, she said, ‘You have, I think, drawn some conclusions of your own, for I have observed how you were studying us.’

Deciding to repay her frankness with honesty of his own, he said, ‘Aye, my lady. I met Galiena but once, and on that occasion I took note of her appearance. And, truth to tell, I cannot but conclude that she could not have been of the same parentage as your four girls, for there is a uniformity to their appearance that suggests the perpetration of a strong family likeness. In addition, all four resemble their parents. You and Sir Raelf. Also I note that you said Galiena taught your four ’ — he emphasised the words — ‘how to distinguish poisonous plants. Finally, madam, I have to say that, had you been Galiena’s mother, you would have had to be a very young bride.’

Making a small bow as if in thanks for the implied compliment, Audra said, ‘You guess rightly. Raelf was married before but his wife died. Galiena was their child and she was less than a year old when Matilda succumbed to a winter fever. Matilda was never strong, or so I am told, and her poor health caused many problems.’

She was looking at Josse expectantly, as if she thought he might read more into her words than their immediate meaning. ‘Ah. I see,’ he said, although he was sure he did not.

Audra was still watching him. Suddenly and quite unexpectedly she asked, ‘Sir Josse, are you acquainted with Brice of Rotherbridge?’

Shocked, Josse said without pausing to think, ‘Aye, lady. He is a neighbour of mine.’ Belatedly he added, ‘Why do you ask?’

But she shook her head. ‘It does not matter. It is of my own family that I would speak. Raelf and I met at Isabella’s house — her husband was still alive then but he died eight years later in a hunting accident. Raelf had recently lost his wife and was faced with raising a small, motherless daughter. At first, I admit, my feelings for him were more dutiful than loving and the main impulse in marrying him was because I had fallen for his baby daughter. But love soon followed, Sir Josse, for Raelf is a good man and has been the best husband I could have wished for.’

‘I am glad to hear it,’ Josse murmured.

‘Our own children soon came along,’ she continued, a happy, reminiscent smile on her plump face, ‘all daughters, as you see. My Emma is soon to be betrothed, but we shall still have Bertha, Alda and little Ewise to love and for my husband to spoil.’ She shot a sideways glance at Josse and, blushing faintly, said quietly, ‘And soon there will be another baby in the cradle. Perhaps it will be a boy this time.’

Embarrassed, Josse muttered some appropriate sentiments expressing the hope that mother and child would fare well.

She laughed softly, putting a kindly hand on his arm. ‘Thank you. Childbed holds no great fears for me any more and I am thankful to say that the good Lord seems to look kindly on my babies and He bestows on them strength and good health.’

‘May He continue to do so,’ Josse said, and she murmured ‘Amen’.

He thought she had finished. He was looking around for Raelf, the stable lad and the missing saddle when she said softly, ‘Sir Josse, there is one final thing.’

He turned to her and the grave expression on her face almost made him fearful. ‘What is it, my lady?’

She studied him for a moment as if still uncertain whether or not to make this last confidence. Then, apparently making up her mind, she said, ‘Raelf’s first wife’s health was such that she could not conceive. She, however, did not seek a cure for her barrenness for, according to Raelf, she feared pregnancy and childbirth and believed herself insufficiently strong to endure the process.’ There was the faintest touch of contempt in Audra’s voice, as if the four times proven mother looked down with scornful pity on her feeble and unsatisfying predecessor. ‘For her, another solution had to be found,’ she went on. ‘They decided to adopt a child.’

‘Galiena,’ Josse said.

‘Quite so. Galiena.’

Aye, he thought. It made sense. This unknown, dead Matilda would have had to be tall, pale and blonde to have given birth to Galiena, and even then the girl would have had to favour her mother entirely with nothing inherited from her squat, dark father.

Galiena was adopted. No wonder she looked nothing like the rest of her family.

There were two more questions to ask. Whether or not the answers had any relevance whatsoever to Galiena’s death would remain to be seen, but in any case Josse had to know.

He said, ‘Who are her real parents? And where did she come from?’

But Audra shook her head. ‘I cannot help you with the first question for I do not know.’ She frowned. ‘I asked Raelf a hundred times back in the early days, for as Galiena grew, her remarkable looks emerged and I was ever most curious as to who had borne her. But Raelf would not tell me.’

‘Did he give you any reason?’ Josse asked.

‘Not really. He used to say that it was for the best if we — and Galiena — put her past behind us. I kept at him for a little longer but then my own babies started arriving and I was too busy to care any more. Galiena was ours, just as my own girls are, and that was that.’

Josse thought back and then said, ‘You said you could not answer the first question, my lady.’ With his hopes rising, he went on, ‘What of the second?’

She smiled. ‘I can tell you a place name, nothing more. At least I have always assumed that it is a place name.’ She looked doubtful.

‘How do you come to know it?’ he asked.

‘Hm? Oh, I overheard Raelf one day. He was speaking to our priest — it was when my Emma was to be baptised — and Father Luke said something like, you won’t be needing any more visits to the Saxon Shore now, Raelf, with one of your own in the cradle!’

‘The Saxon Shore?’

‘Yes. I believe it means over on the east coast, in the area beyond the Great Marsh. Father Luke said the name of the actual place, too.’

Josse waited an instant, then prompted, ‘Aye?’

‘Yes. It’s a place where the waves and the tides used to lap up against a cliff and where long ago men constructed a fort that overlooked the narrow seas. Only now the fort lies in ruins, the sands have built up and there is marshland where the waters once were.’ Audra hesitated. Then, in a whisper, she said, ‘It is called Deadfall.’