Alys Clare - Whiter than the Lily

Well, thought Helewise, it is good that she has someone she can turn to.

Ambrose, both bemused and at the same time so happy that he kept throwing his arms around them all, ordered fresh food and drink. Then, while they waited for Galiena to reappear, he pressed them all to eat and drink.

Helewise sought out Josse. ‘You too are unharmed, my friend?’ she asked quietly.

‘Aye.’ He gave her a grin. ‘What joy to find you here, my lady Abbess, the one person with whom I wished to share this triumph! I had envisaged having to wait to give you the good news until I reached Hawkenlye, but here you are!’

‘I rode home with Ambrose because — er, because-’ She found that she was at a loss to explain without either making Ambrose appear weak or herself sound self-important.

But Josse, bless him, said, ‘I think I understand. You helped him to face a home without her.’

And thankfully she whispered, ‘Yes.’

After a moment she said, ‘What happened?’

Josse replied, ‘We do not know the full story yet. Galiena refuses to tell us; she begged our indulgence but said it was only proper that she reveals it first to Ambrose.’

‘So you have had to contain your impatience,’ she murmured. ‘How very trying for you.’

He gave her a sharp glance. ‘Indeed, my lady.’

‘The dead girl whom we buried at Hawkenlye,’ Helewise asked softly, ‘do you know her true identity?’

‘Not so far,’ he whispered back. ‘Galiena implies that she may be able to tell us. You think of her grave, I imagine?’

‘I do. She is buried in our plot as Galiena Ryemarsh but clearly that is not who she was.’

‘Hm.’ He thought for a moment. ‘My lady, if it is necessary I will press the matter for you. It may be that it is overlooked in the excitement of Galiena’s return, but I know that it is important to you and I will help if I can.’

‘Thank you.’ She touched his arm lightly with her fingers. And she thought, dear Josse. Dependable as ever.

When Galiena reappeared, it was obvious that she had taken great trouble over her appearance. Her clear skin shone with cleanliness and her hair had been washed and was still damp; as it dried, its white-blonde colour reappeared. There was a bruise on her forehead and her deep blue eyes seemed overlarge in her pale face. Before she had time to say more than a few words of greeting to the company, Isabella led her firmly over to the table and stood over her while she ate a plateful of food and drank some rich red wine.

Then, with Ambrose holding her hand, she went to sit beside him on one of the benches that Brice and Josse had drawn up before the great fireplace. Brice and Isabella sat on another, Josse and Helewise on the third.

As they settled themselves, Helewise studied the girl’s face. Yes, there was a strong resemblance to the woman who had taken her identity and ridden into Hawkenlye Abbey. But Galiena was lighter in build, shorter in stature and her face was finer-boned. She was also younger, by quite a few years, Helewise guessed. And she had a — how to describe it? An altogether softer quality, she decided. An air of kindness, of generosity, as if anyone approaching her would know instinctively that they had found a friend.

It was no wonder, Helewise thought, that she and the Hawkenlye nuns had formed such a very dissimilar impression of the woman they knew as Galiena Ryemarsh from that which Josse had gained; the Hawkenlye nuns and Josse had unknowingly been talking about two different women.

At last Galiena was ready to speak. Looking first at Ambrose, she said, ‘My dearest, it is through the efforts of three very dear people that I am here returned to you, and I would first give them my heartfelt thanks.’ Standing, she bowed to Josse, to Brice and to Isabella, who in turn got up to return the courtesy. Then, looking at Helewise, she said, ‘My lady Abbess, you and I should have met some days ago, and I wish that it had been so, for many people would then have been spared pain, heartache and death.’ Death! Helewise thought. Well, there was the dead woman at Hawkenlye and also the poor young groom, Dickon, whose body Brother Saul and Brother Augustus had discovered.

Hoping very much that the death toll was not to be any greater, she said, ‘Galiena, I too wish that you had made your way in safety to Hawkenlye and found the help from my nuns that you had hoped for.’

Galiena’s eyes were firm on Helewise’s. ‘I shall come, my lady,’ she said. ‘If I may.’

‘Of course,’ Helewise said. ‘We shall look forward to it.’

‘Sweetheart, will you now proceed with your tale?’ Ambrose prompted gently.

And with an obedient nod she did so.

Some time later, in the soft darkness of the midsummer night, Helewise again walked in Galiena’s garden. Ambrose had taken his wife off to bed some time ago; the young woman was clearly exhausted and had wanted nothing more, once her story was told, than to lie in her husband’s arms and seek the comfort of a long sleep. Isabella had been given a guest chamber next to Helewise’s, and she too had retired, as had Josse and Brice to their own chamber. The three of them had been almost as tired as Galiena and, despite the many things she burned to talk over with Josse, Helewise had seen that it would have been cruel to keep him from his rest.

The only wakeful person in the house, she had waited till all was quiet and then slipped outside. Now, walking alone in the soft, scented night, she went right back to the start of Galiena’s extraordinary story and went through it all over again …

She had had such high hopes of the Hawkenlye nuns. Had known, somehow, that they would be able to help her. And, oh, how she wanted to be helped! To give her beloved Ambrose a child was her dearest wish. And she wanted children too, for her own sake, she who had known such love in her childhood from those generous, big-hearted people who had taken her in and who, in all but the blood, were her true kin. A boy first, she hoped — and, with Ambrose’s permission, we will call him Raelf — and then a little girl. Two little girls. The first we will call after my beloved Isabella, closer to me than any sister, and the second, Audra for my mother .

They set out for the Abbey as soon as they could. Dear Ambrose had not been able to ride with them, preoccupied as he was with the business of the King’s ransom. But it did not matter because Josse d’Acquin offered to escort her part of the way, and young Dickon and Aebba would accompany her on the remainder of the road to Hawkenlye .

She had never liked Aebba and did not welcome her company. She did not care for Aebba to be with her even when she was about her normal daily round and to have her there, a silent and oppressive presence, on this particular journey, with its precious and above all private purpose, was depressing. But Aebba had a claim on Galiena and Galiena did not feel that it was right to send her away .

It happened only a few miles after they had passed New Winnowlands, where they had left Josse. The three of them, Galiena, Aebba and Dickon, were riding on a stretch of track that was shady and dark beneath overhanging trees. Dickon — poor Dickon! — was in the lead, Galiena behind him and Aebba in the rear .

Five men in rough cloaks, their fair hair long and plaited, jumped out on to the track. Four leapt on them, the fifth — who had a woman riding pillion behind him — sat on his horse watching. Dickon was dragged to the ground; Galiena was grabbed by two men who rushed up on either side of her. Spinning round, she screamed to Aebba to help her .

But Aebba just sat there .

Dickon was on his feet, wrestling with the man who had thrown him down, and he managed to cripple his assailant with a knee to the man’s groin .