Alys Clare - The Chatter of the Maidens

Berthe’s resistance collapsed. ‘I couldn’t lie to him,’ she said softly.

Helewise threw her arms round the slumped shoulders. ‘I’m very sorry, Berthe. This — setting Augustine to follow you and reveal your secret to me — was entirely my plan.’

Berthe disengaged herself and stared up into Helewise’s face. ‘But then you’re tougher than him,’ she said quietly.

‘I-’ Helewise found she couldn’t go on. What, indeed, was there to say?

‘Come on, then,’ Berthe said, leading the way off along the track. Stopping again and turning round, she added, ‘That is, if you really want to pay them a visit, and this wasn’t just a way of getting me on my own for a private talk?’

Such cynicism! Helewise thought. And the child still so young. ‘Indeed I do wish to visit Meriel and Jerome,’ she assured Berthe. ‘And in your company, too. Much has been going on that has been damaging to you both, and I wish to set matters right.’

Berthe did not reply. But the look she gave Helewise over her shoulder rather suggested she doubted whether setting these particular matters right was within any one person’s power.

Even if that person was the Abbess of Hawkenlye.

Berthe was still in the lead when they came to the clearing.

‘Meriel!’ she called out. ‘Jerome! It’s me, Berthe, and I’ve got the Abbess with me!’

There was no answer.

Berthe turned round to Helewise. ‘They’re probably off checking the snares,’ she said confidently. ‘Jerome’s getting very good at snaring; he got a hare the other day and Meriel cooked it beautifully! Meriel!’ she called again, more loudly. ‘Where are you?’

But Helewise had walked over to the little hearth. No fire burned; none was laid ready. She put her hand to one of the pieces of turf that had been neatly cut and placed where the fire had been, gently moving it aside to feel beneath.

Cold.

Hearing Berthe’s calls echo from the edge of the trees, she straightened up and went across to the shelter which Meriel and Jerome had been using.

It was empty.

Other than the edges of the scar left by the recent fire, the glade and the charcoal burners’ camp looked deserted. Looked, moreover, as if nobody had been there for weeks. Months.

Helewise called softly, ‘Berthe, come here.’

After some time, Berthe obeyed.

Helewise stared at her. ‘Child, they’ve gone. Meriel and Jerome have gone.’

Berthe was shaking her head, her eyes filling with tears. She said, ‘ No! ’

‘Now, Berthe, don’t cry!’ Helewise tried to hug her but she would not suffer herself to be hugged. ‘We’ll find them, I promise, and then you’ll-’

‘We won’t find them!’ Berthe shouted. ‘Don’t you understand? I only found them here because they told me where they were, and you only found them because you followed me! If they don’t want to be found, then nobody will find them.’

‘They don’t know the forest,’ Helewise said, trying to sound calm and in control, ‘whereas I-’ No. She could not say, whereas I do, even to reassure this poor child. It was a lie. And for some reason Helewise didn’t like to fathom, it felt as if it would be a dangerous lie. .

Berthe was looking at her. ‘The forest is vast,’ she said. ‘I know it is, Jerome said. Big enough for two people to disappear and never be found.’ Two fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

Helewise’s heart broke for her. ‘They won’t leave you behind, Berthe.’ She wished the girl would relent and let her approach. ‘Your sister won’t abandon you.’

‘She will if she has to,’ Berthe said. ‘And anyway I told her about the infirmary, how I really like working there and how Sister Euphemia says maybe one day I can be one of her proper nurses.’

‘So?’ Helewise didn’t immediately see the connection.

Berthe gave a faint sigh. ‘So she knows I’ll be happy. Even if she has to go.’ But the tears, momentarily halted, were flowing again. ‘Even if I never see her again as long as I live.’

Helewise could no longer resist the urge to comfort. Stepping forward, putting her hands on Berthe’s shoulders, she said, ‘Berthe, it will not come to that! I am quite sure it won’t!’

Berthe shook her off. ‘Abbess Helewise, I know you mean well, but you don’t understand!’ Her voice rising to near hysteria, she cried, ‘That’s been the trouble, all along! You’ve tried to help, but you can’t. You just don’t know what’s at stake!’

‘Then tell me!’ Helewise implored. ‘Let me help you, all of you!’

For a moment of stillness, she thought Berthe was going to relent. Waiting, she found she was holding her breath.

But then Berthe said, ‘No.’ With a resigned look, she straightened her shoulders, and the gesture almost undermined the Abbess. Managing a weak smile, Berthe went on, ‘Please don’t think I don’t long to tell you. But the secret isn’t mine to reveal.’

Turning away from the camp, she headed out of the deserted glade and back along the track.

And Helewise found she was left with no option but to follow.

By the time Helewise and Berthe were safely back inside the Abbey’s gates, the nuns were already making their way to the church for Compline. As Sister Ursel carefully barred the gate behind her, engaging the Abbess in a few brief words of conversation as she did so, Helewise wondered if there was anything she could say which would have the effect of sending Berthe more happily to her bed.

She couldn’t think of anything.

And when she turned from Sister Ursel and walked on towards the church, she saw that Berthe had already hurried away. The child was not even going to have the solace of prayer before she went to bed.

Helewise, while not entirely sure what she could have done differently — done better — was nonetheless filled with the feeling that she had failed Berthe. Failed her badly.

Since Meriel and Jerome undoubtedly would not have fled had the Abbess not announced that she was about to set Alba free, she probably had.

The nuns dispersed after the Office, most heading for the dormitory and a well-earned night’s sleep, but some going off to various parts of the community for night duty. Helewise knew she should go to bed — she was worn out — but her mind was still racing.

It is no use my going to bed, she realised, for I shall not sleep.

She slipped away from the rest of the sisters and, walking in the shadows of the great church, made for the rear gate. Perhaps some time spent looking out over the Vale, absorbing its serenity and its peaceful, natural beauty, would calm her.

She unbolted the gate and went outside. It was almost fully dark now, but there was a half moon in the clear sky, and she could make out the details of the familiar landscape. Strange, she thought, I hardly ever come out here unless some matter has called me to visit the shrine. I wonder why I should have felt drawn to come and stand here this evening?

Perhaps it was because there had been a death down there on the path that led off along the Vale. A death that seemed to have gone out of most people’s heads, driven away by other, more pressing problems.

Why do I think of that poor soul now ? Helewise wondered.

But there was no answer.

After a while, she went back inside the Abbey walls and fastened the gate.

She was back in her room, tidying away her earlier attempts to complete her tasks and leave a perfectly clear table to greet her the next day, when there came a knock on the door.

It was so soft that at first she doubted whether she had really heard anything. Stopping what she was doing, standing perfectly still and holding her breath, she waited.