Alys Clare - The Chatter of the Maidens

Feeling a small and totally unworthy sense of triumph, she said sweetly, ‘Indeed no, Abbot, I shall ask someone who, unlike yourself, is not engaged in such all-absorbing work.’

She found her way back to the courtyard, where Saul and Augustine were waiting for her.

She said, ‘We have to find somewhere called Sedgebeck, then a place called Denney, where Benedictine nuns run a madhouse. Do you know of either, Augustine?’ The young brother shook his head. ‘Then we need to ask for directions,’ she continued. ‘Have you met any friendly, Christian soul who might provide them?’

Augustine raised an eyebrow, and exchanged a swift glance with Saul. Both, Helewise noted, were too well disciplined to enquire why the Abbot hadn’t told her which way to go.

‘I shall ask the stabler,’ Saul said. ‘He says he is a local man.’

Soon he was back. ‘For Sedgebeck, we have to go back the way we came, re-cross Wicken Lode, and go south towards a low isle that we’ll see directly in front of us. That’s Sedgebeck. Denney lies south-west of here, and it is a good road.’

Saul, Helewise noticed, looked pale. ‘Thank you, Saul,’ she said. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, Abbess.’

‘I suggest, then, that we leave straight away,’ she announced. ‘We have several hours of daylight left, and if neither Sedgebeck nor Denney is the right place, then the sooner we establish that, the sooner we can get on with finding the one that is.’

Brother Saul’s mouth had dropped open. ‘Abbess, if we’re heading for Sedgebeck, I really think we would be better to set out in the morning,’ he said. Beads of sweat were standing out on his forehead.

‘Why, Saul?’ she asked gently, greatly surprised that her stalwart Brother Saul seemed to be showing all the signs of extreme terror. ‘What else did the stabler tell you about the place?’

‘Abbess, if it truly is where Sister Alba was, then it’s no wonder the poor lass is losing her wits!’ His voice dropped to a whisper, and he edged closer. Augustine, Helewise noticed, did as well. They must look, she reflected wryly, like a trio of witches.

‘Sedgebeck has an evil reputation,’ Saul murmured. ‘People have got lost there in the marshes, and gone clean out of their wits! And there’s shifting sands, too, in the waterways, that suck an unwary traveller in and don’t give up the body till he’s long dead and drowned! There’s things that live in the water thereabouts that no man wants to encounter, unholy things, things that creep up out of the ooze and steal livestock. Steal babies, too, so the stabler says.’

Helewise straightened up and said firmly, ‘Saul, you have been listening to superstitious gossip. Do you really think that Our Blessed Lord would allow such things on His earth, especially so near to the sanctified ground of one of His holy communities?’

‘But that’s just it, it seems they do say that Sedgebeck is not-’ Saul began.

‘And that,’ Helewise interrupted, ‘sounds very like gossip of another kind, but just as reprehensible! Please, brothers, fetch the horses, see if you can beg some provisions from the good monks, and let’s be on our way.’

With one last miserable look in her direction, Saul did as she commanded. Augustine went to follow him, but stopped. ‘Abbess?’ he said softly.

‘Yes, Augustine?’

‘It may not necessarily be just gossip, you know. We should take heed — these rumours don’t grow up for nothing, not in my experience.’

She should have listened. Augustine’s experience, having been brought up a child of the travelling people, was worth heeding.

But she was still suffering from the after-effects of her interview with the Abbot, and reasoning with two lay brothers, wide eyed with peasant dread, did not appeal just then. She said curtly, ‘Please go and help Brother Saul. We leave as soon as we can be ready.’

The sun was low in the sky as they set out. A splendid sunset was painting the sky flaming orange, and small, brilliant pink clouds were puffing up from the cooling land. There were rustling sounds coming from the reed beds which, Helewise told herself, were doubtless waterfowl settling into their roosts.

They rode for some time. Then the weather changed.

A bank of cloud low on the horizon suddenly began to grow, blooming quickly like some weird, black fungus, spreading rapidly up the sky. There was a distant, ominous growl of thunder.

Saul, edging the cob up close beside Helewise, said urgently, ‘Abbess, there’s a storm coming!’

‘Indeed there is, Brother Saul. What do you-?’

But Augustine, in the lead, interrupted. Turning round, he called out, ‘If we proceed to Sedgebeck, we’re going to be drenched. It will take time — we have to find the way, and it’s likely some of the dykes and ditches may flood if there’s heavy rain. But it’s a straight road to Denney, and only another four or five miles — should we not head there, Abbess?’

She thought quickly. Keep to the plan and seek out the convent hidden away in the fens? Or divert and go to Denney?

Another clap of thunder rolled towards them across the flat land. Swiftly making up her mind, she called out to Augustine, ‘Lead us to Denney!’

They arrived as the first raindrops started to fall; big, round and hard as stones, they pounded agonisingly on to the three riders. Helewise tried to cover her head with one hand as she watched Augustine shouting at the porter above the sounds of the storm; he must have known exactly what to say for, after a moment, the big gate was thrown open and they all rode inside.

A couple of sacking-covered figures ran out to help, taking the horses and hurrying them under cover as another figure, also sheltering under a sack, peered out from a partly-opened door and beckoned the Abbess and the two lay brothers inside.

It was only as this figure was removing its sack and speaking words of welcome that Helewise realised it was a man. Hurriedly responding to the greeting, she asked, ‘Is this not the Benedictine house at Denney?’

And the man, who, with the sack fully removed, was revealed as young, fresh-faced and dressed in a black habit, said, ‘No. This is indeed Denney, but you are come to the Templar preceptory. Was it the Benedictines whom you sought, Sister?’

‘It was,’ she replied.

The man cocked an ear to another great rumble of thunder. ‘Then I suggest you delay your mission until morning, and stay with us for this wild night.’

She could almost feel the relief coming off her two companions. With a bow to the black-robed monk, she said, ‘Thank you. We gratefully accept your hospitality.’

The guesthouse of the Templars was luxurious.

Helewise, who was, she reckoned, probably the only woman under the preceptory’s roof, had a room to herself. She was provided with hot water, a delicious meal and a jug of wine, and a fire was lit for her to dry her clothing. She slept soundly, in a very comfortable bed with linen sheets and soft, woollen blankets.

Reunited with Saul and Augustine in the morning, the same monk who had received them the night before led them to a small room, where they were served breakfast. Helewise was just wondering why they were kept apart from the community when the monk said, ‘Forgive us if we appear preoccupied. We are in the midst of grave afflictions that demand our Master’s full attention, and that of our senior brothers.’

‘I am sorry that we add to your burdens,’ Helewise replied.

‘Please, no need for apologies.’ The monk smiled at her. ‘I have been detailed to give you what help I can; may I take you to the Benedictine house, for example? Perhaps if you could reveal your business with the sisters there. . ’