Alys Clare - The Chatter of the Maidens

Helewise made herself count to five. ‘Sister Alba,’ she said quietly, ‘you are new to Hawkenlye, and we must make allowances. However, I cannot believe that such an entrance into a superior’s presence can have been permitted in your previous community.’

‘I haven’t time-’ Alba began.

‘You will go outside,’ Helewise said, ignoring her, ‘and come in again. Correctly, this time.’

Face now flaming with suppressed anger, Alba did as she was told. Her second entrance was marginally more courteous; after letting her wait in silence for a few moments, Helewise said, ‘Now you may speak.’

‘Berthe is working in the Vale,’ Alba said, controlling her voice with an obvious effort, ‘and she mustn’t. That is, it’s best if she doesn’t. She’s — er, it’s not right. For her.’

Helewise could hardly believe she was hearing right. ‘Berthe has been sent to assist the monks in looking after our visitors,’ she said. ‘The work is neither hard nor exacting, and Berthe was perfectly happy to go.’

‘But-’ Alba seemed to be struggling with some violent emotion; her hands, Helewise noticed, were twisting and pulling at the rope around her waist. Then: ‘Please, Abbess, won’t you send someone else instead? One of the nuns?’

‘Two nuns have already been sent,’ Helewise said coldly. ‘And, Sister Alba, it is not for you to order what work the nuns are put to.’

Sister Alba’s face worked. Then, abruptly changing tack, she demanded, ‘What sort of people go to the Vale?’

‘People who seek Our Lady’s cure, as given in the Holy Water,’ Helewise said.

‘Local folk? Travellers? Pilgrims?’

‘All of those.’ Helewise made herself speak levelly.

‘Ordinary folk or nobility?’

‘Both.’

‘Do they come from far afield?’

‘Indeed they do. We have a reputation for miracles at Hawkenlye, Sister Alba, as you knew perfectly well when you brought your sisters here.’

Alba brushed that aside. ‘Abbess Helewise, I’m begging you — I wouldn’t insist if it were not so important, but-’

‘Sister Alba, you forget yourself.’ Helewise got to her feet and walked round her table to stand before Alba. Where any other nun would have read the signs and at least lowered her head, if not performed a penitential reverence, Alba glared at the Abbess face to face. ‘You are dismissed,’ Helewise said. ‘Go back to your duties, and try to put your sister’s whereabouts out of your mind.’

‘But-’

‘ Go ,’ Helewise said very firmly.

And, with a last ferocious scowl, Alba turned on her heel and flounced out, banging the heavy door behind her.

Helewise was used to her nuns not only obeying her without question, but, when they could manage it, anticipating her commands.

It did not enter her head that Alba would defy her and so, when Sister Martha came to tell her that Alba had gone down to the Vale and had ordered Berthe to come straight back to the Abbey, Helewise thought at first that there must have been some mistake.

There was not.

Berthe, according to Sister Martha, had protested vehemently against her elder sister’s heavy handedness, and her shouting had alerted not only Sister Martha, but also Sister Ursel, in the porteress’s lodge, and Sister Tiphaine, busy in the herb garden.

‘And, Abbess,’ Sister Martha had added, wide-eyed with amazement at these extraordinary happenings, ‘when the little lassie tried to wrench her arm away and set off back to the Vale, that Sister Alba grabbed her sleeve so roughly that it tore, then smacked her hard across the cheek! Poor Berthe, she’ll have a great bruise there come morning!’

‘Thank you, Sister Martha.’ Helewise headed for the door, Sister Martha at her heels.

‘Seems to me that Sister Alba needs a good talking-to,’ Sister Martha panted as she hurried to keep up with Helewise’s long strides. ‘Seems to me you should-’

‘ Thank you , Sister!’ Helewise repeated, rather more forcefully. Goodness, were all her nuns going to copy Alba’s insubordination?

‘Yes, Abbess. Sorry, Abbess,’ Sister Martha said contritely.

‘That’s better,’ Helewise murmured. But not loud enough for Sister Martha to hear.

She strode out across the courtyard. It wasn’t difficult to locate Alba, she reflected, one had but to follow the sound of the angry, shouting voice.

Quite a crowd had gathered. Sister Euphemia had come hurrying out of the infirmary and, as Helewise joined the throng, she was elbowing her way through towards Alba, calling for a bit of hush, her patients weren’t to be disturbed.

Helewise said, ‘Silence, please. All of you.’

Her nuns, used to keeping an ear out for their Abbess’s quiet but carrying tones, instantly ceased their thrilled, gossipy chatter.

Leaving just the one voice.

‘. . down there showing yourself like some little trollop, flashing those blue eyes and batting your eyelids, flirting with anything between the ages of six and sixty’ — suddenly the furious shouting went up a tone — ‘ showing yourself to anyone that happens to have eyes to see you! ’

‘Sister Alba,’ Helewise said.

Alba turned and said rudely, ‘What?’

There was a collective gasp from the nuns.

‘Let go of Berthe.’ There was no response. ‘At once!’

Something in Helewise’s icy voice seemed to penetrate; Alba let go of her sister, and Berthe hastened away from her. Sister Euphemia, who must have noticed the bright pink swelling on Berthe’s cheek, put her arm around the sobbing girl and led her away.

Helewise rejected the swift thought she had just had, of humiliating Alba by announcing her punishment out in the open, in front of a dozen avidly listening nuns. With a brief gesture, she beckoned Alba to follow her, turning her back and leading the way to her room.

She was just wondering what she would do were Alba to refuse to follow her when a soft murmur from the nuns suggested that, for once, Alba had decided to obey.

When Helewise and Alba were once more in Helewise’s room and the door was firmly closed, Helewise said, ‘Sister Alba, you have countermanded one of my orders, hurt your own sister, and seriously disturbed the peace of the community. You leave me no choice but to impose a severe punishment. Have you anything to say?’

It occurred to her that, so far, Alba had given no reason for the desperate measures she had taken to remove Berthe from the Vale. Would she do so now?

No. Lips folded into a tight, unforgiving line, Alba maintained her silence.

‘Very well,’ Helewise said. ‘You will go from here into the church, where you will prostrate yourself in prayer. You will ask God to forgive your sins against your sister and against this community, and you will remain there until the arrival of our confessor. You will then kneel before him, make your confession, and receive whatever penance he sees fit to impose.’

Sister Alba had been listening carefully to the Abbess’s pronouncement. Watching her, Helewise had the growing feeling that something was amiss. . Alba’s face had gone from its hectic flush to a deadly pallor.

And, out of nowhere, Helewise suddenly felt a dreadful sense of threat.

Her instinctive awareness was what saved her, for, just as Alba swung a furious fist right at her, Helewise stepped back.

And Alba, off-balance from lunging into empty air instead of into her Abbess’s face, fell to her knees.

Instantly Helewise jumped round her, flung open the door and cried, ‘Sister Martha! Sister Ursel! Come here!’

They were still standing in the same spot, where they had formed part of the rapt group around Alba and Berthe; faces reflecting their astonishment, they began to walk across to Helewise.