Alys Clare - Whiter than the Lily

Helewise took several more turns around Galiena’s sweet-scented garden. That was the end of the story, as Galiena and Isabella had told it.

Isabella had mentioned that the name of the woman who had replaced Galiena was Fritha. Helewise wondered now if Fritha had known she was pregnant. Helewise almost hoped that she had not, for it surely would have been worse to suffer that agonising death in the knowledge that her unborn child was dying with her.

Who poisoned Fritha? Helewise asked herself the question for the twentieth time. And why?

I am too tired to puzzle over it any more now, she thought, turning at last back towards the house. I shall sleep, as I trust everyone else is doing. In the morning, perhaps our refreshed minds will manage to find some answers.

It appeared that others had also appreciated the need for answers. As they convened for the morning meal — Isabella was now dressed in women’s clothes and Helewise noticed in passing both that she was a remarkably handsome woman and also that she bore a resemblance to Galiena — Ambrose announced that Brice had something that he wished to tell them all.

‘Brice,’ Ambrose said commandingly, ‘please, enlighten us as to what it is you would have us know.’

With a quick glance at Isabella, standing by his side, Brice took hold of her hand and said, ‘Isabella has consented to become my wife. It is something I have prayed for since I met her and, at last, my prayers have been answered.’

There was a sudden babble of excited congratulations and delighted exclamations; Galiena went to hug her friend and whispered something in her ear that made Isabella smile broadly.

Then Josse said something which Helewise did not understand: looking both pleased and slightly perplexed, he asked, ‘But Isabella, what of the matter we spoke of? What of the — er — the impediment ?’ His voice dropped to a whisper for the last word but, since Josse had never been very good at whispering, Helewise heard it clearly, although she did not think that anyone else had done.

With an affectionate look at him, Isabella replied quietly, ‘Wait, Josse, and I shall explain.’

Ambrose, once again master in his hall, said loudly across the noise, ‘There is another tale to tell here, unless I am mistaken. We would hear it, Brice, if you please.’

‘It is Isabella’s tale primarily,’ Brice replied. ‘I will speak when asked but, for the main, let us listen to her.’

Isabella paused for a few moments, looking down at the floor. Then, raising her head and staring out through the open door towards the bright sunshine beyond, she began to speak. ‘I was married, as all of you except the Abbess know, to a fine man, Nicholas de Burghay. When our second child was but a baby, my husband was killed. Galiena’s family, by which I mean her adoptive family at Readingbrooke, took me in because Audra de Readingbrooke is my sister-in-law; Nicholas was her brother. Then Galiena met and married Ambrose, and here in his hall I first met Brice. We fell in love but there was a powerful reason why I could not agree to follow my heart and marry him.’

‘Roger,’ Brice interrupted. ‘Isabella’s boy,’ he explained to Helewise, who nodded.

But Isabella put her hand to his face and said gently, ‘No, my love. Roger was not the reason and my heart has pained me every time I have had to endure your sad puzzlement, for you believed me when I said he disliked you. In fact he does like you, very much.’

Brice’s face was a study. He looked, Helewise thought, hurt, bemused and, not very far beneath the surface, angry.

Isabella must have perceived the rising anger too for she hurried on. ‘Hear what I have to say, Brice, before you judge me. My refusal to wed you was out of fear for your safety, for I believe — no, I know — that Nicholas was murdered and I was terrified that, if my love for you were to be made public by our marriage, you would suffer the same fate.’

‘No, I cannot believe this!’ Brice, deeply disturbed, shook his head. ‘Nicholas was murdered? By whom?’

Again Isabella paused. Then she said, ‘You may have wondered how it was that I came to know so much about the community at Saltwych.’ She glanced at Brice, who shrugged and muttered something about having supposed that Galiena had told her.

Helewise, who had been wondering that very thing, waited for an answer.

‘But I knew little of the place until quite recently!’ Galiena protested. ‘It was Isabella who told me much of what I know!’

There was a tense silence. Then Ambrose said commandingly, ‘Isabella, if you please. Go on.’

She gave him an anguished look and then said, ‘Like Galiena, I too am a child of the clan at Saltwych. My mother was Aelle’s second cousin and she died giving birth to me. I do not know who my father was — there was some mystery about it and I was half-afraid to know the truth, even had it been offered to me.’ She tried to laugh, but it was a feeble attempt. ‘It has been known for close kin to marry and bear children, and I did not-’ She made herself stop. ‘I was raised in the community until I was almost seventeen and then they found a husband for me. They thought they had selected a man who was close to the powerful circles that rule our land, but they were wrong. I do not know how they came to make such a fundamental error — perhaps the source of their information was mistaken over the name. Anyway, as far as my people were concerned, I was married to the wrong man. It was never explained to me.’

‘And they were not pleased when the man whom they had chosen proved not to be the influential person they had believed him to be?’ Helewise put in softly.

Isabella spun round to look at her, wide blue-green eyes taking on a bright shine in the light streaming through the open door. ‘No, my lady. They were not.’ She hesitated, then, swallowing, voice cracking on the words, said, ‘Aelle killed him. They made it look like an accident — we were out hawking and, as we rode through a stretch of woodland, a heavy branch came crashing down out of a tree and knocked Nicholas from his horse. He suffered a grave wound to his head and it became inflamed and he died in torment.’

Josse said, after a short respectful pause, ‘Isabella, are you certain Aelle was responsible?’

She looked at him, tears in her eyes. ‘Oh, yes. I saw him, and he had other men from the settlement with him. He pretended to be there to help me but there was no reason, other than an attack on Nicholas, for him to be in that vicinity; normally he rarely leaves the marsh.’

‘But it could have been coincidence,’ Josse persisted. Helewise, watching him, wondered why he was pursuing the point.

‘No,’ Isabella said firmly. ‘There is something else: later, when Nicholas was buried and I was about to move in with the family at Readingbrooke, Aelle visited me. And he said they would find another husband for me who would better advance the cause of our blood kin.’

Josse sat back with a smile, increasing Helewise’s puzzlement. But Isabella, who had also noticed, gave a quick laugh and said, ‘Are you happy now, Josse? Now that you understand that I truly had a reason?’

And he said, ‘More than happy, Isabella. Thank you.’

There is a small mystery there, Helewise thought to herself, that I will pursue another time …

Brice, who no longer looked angry, said, ‘Isabella, my love, you should have told me this long ago! I would have done something, I could have-’ He stopped.

‘What would you have done?’ Isabella asked. ‘What happened to Nicholas could so easily have happened to you. In the case of an active man, a man who loves to hunt as much as you do, it is all too easy to feign a fatal accident.’ Then, holding one of his hands in both of hers, she said, ‘I did not want to be the cause of the death of another man I loved.’ Then, passionately, ‘I did not want to lose you too!’