Alys Clare - The Chatter of the Maidens

‘If she feared somebody would come looking for her because they knew she’d murdered the youth in the cottage, then her fear is understandable,’ he replied. ‘She’d know that everyone from her old home knew all three sisters. Someone searching for Alba would only have to spot Berthe or Meriel to know that Alba was nearby.’

Abruptly she stood up. ‘Sir Josse, I have agreed to receive Bastian again after Sext. I should be most grateful if you would agree to be a party to our discussion.’

He gave her a smile. ‘Gladly.’

He stood back against the wall of the Abbess’s room, behind her as she sat at her table. Bastian, who had just arrived, was invited to sit on the visitors’ stool.

It was a relief, Josse thought, to have this confrontation at last. Although it was not long past noon, the day had already seemed endless. Although Josse knew quite well that he was not guilty of spreading rumours, and he was equally certain that the Abbess would not have done, somehow word seemed to have leaked as to who Bastian was and what he was there for. An uneasy mood had permeated the Abbey; it was time to stop the speculation and take action.

Josse studied Bastian. He noted the formal bow which he gave to the Abbess — I’ll wager that’s what told her he was no knight, he thought — and he took in the strength in the slim, wiry frame. There was power in the man, he concluded. Both physical and spiritual power, and a great deal of it.

‘I have considered your request that I do not release Alba from her imprisonment,’ the Abbess said after having returned Bastian’s greeting, ‘and I would like to ask you a question.’

‘Please,’ Bastian said.

Without even glancing at Josse — to whom Bastian had been introduced, and whose presence he had acknowledged with a brief, wry smile — she said, ‘You tell me that you have a witness who will presumably attest to the fact that Alba murdered your nephew, Felix.’

‘As I told you, Abbess Helewise, the witness is but a child,’ Bastian said gently. ‘But yes, he will attest before us.’

Us , Josse thought.

The Abbess had picked that up too. ‘Bastian, who exactly is us ?’ she asked.

‘The people with whom I lodge,’ he said smoothly. ‘My — er, my household.’

‘The Knights Templar of Denney,’ she said, equally smoothly.

For a moment, Josse thought he would deny it. But, with a brief apologetic bow, he said, ‘I see that my disguise of a simple pilgrim has been penetrated. Yes, Abbess. I am Bastian de Waelsham, Knight Templar, from the house of Denney.’

‘And you know quite well, for all that you have not mentioned it to me,’ the Abbess said, ‘that one of your brethren, also in the guise of a pilgrim, died in our Vale recently.’

‘I do,’ he admitted. ‘I regret, Abbess, that I made no mention of it last night. But, as I am sure you will appreciate, to reveal that I knew of the death would have made you suspicious, since I did not arrive at the shrine until well after the event, and your monks, you will be glad to hear, do not gossip with new arrivals about matters pertaining to those who preceded them.’ He sighed. ‘However, as it transpires, I might as well have told you, since you have discovered who I am without assistance.’ He shot a glance at Josse. ‘Without my assistance, anyway.’

The Abbess said coolly, ‘Sir Josse and I are used to working together. He has often been my confidant, and his advice has been instrumental in the resolution of many grave problems.’

‘I see,’ Bastian said. ‘Well, Abbess? Now that you know the whole story, what have you decided to do about Alba? Not that it is in truth your decision,’ he added softly, ‘since, as you said, she is no longer a member of your community. She is no longer even a nun.’

‘I am aware of that, thank you, Brother Bastian,’ the Abbess said. Josse noted how, once his identity had been confirmed, she addressed Bastian by his proper title. ‘What concerns me is this, if I may speak plainly. Alba is guilty of the murder of your nephew, Felix, you tell us, and, although you have not said so, I guess that you believe she may also have attacked your brother monk in the Vale.’ Bastian began to speak, but she held up her hand for silence. ‘I fear that the emotions of you and your brethren will run high, and this is understandable since one of your own has died, but-’

‘ Two of our own,’ Bastian put in. He gave her a sly look. ‘Felix was about to enter the Order.’

‘Very well, two of your own.’ She was staring straight at Bastian, Josse noted. Brave woman, he thought; he had an idea of what she was about to say. ‘And I very much fear, Brother Bastian, that, under the circumstances, Alba may not receive a fair trial. My inclination, therefore, is to keep her here until she may be tried in this area, where we may-’

Bastian’s face was pale with anger. ‘Not receive a fair trial?’ he repeated. ‘Abbess Helewise, remember to whom you speak! I am a Templar, and we do not pervert the course of justice!’

‘Brother Bastian, I have learned much of Alba and her sisters over recent days and weeks,’ the Abbess said. ‘I accept that she may be responsible for these acts of extreme violence, but, in the name of God’s holy mercy, should we not bear in mind that the woman has had a dreadful background, which may well have affected her adversely? You told me yourself that her mother died in giving birth to her, and you spoke of the character of Wilfrid, and-’

But Bastian could contain himself no longer. ‘These matters will be addressed, Abbess!’ he cried, ‘and you insult both me and my Order by implying that they will not! And, besides, what choice do you really have? You cannot release Alba to freedom, now that you know what she has done, and it may be months before she can be tried here in Kent. Put her in my care, and I will take her straight back to Denney, where her fate will be decided immediately!’

‘Brother Bastian, it serves no purpose merely to repeat your arguments,’ the Abbess answered, with what Josse thought was admirable calm. ‘I believe that the best thing-’

But neither Josse nor Bastian were to hear what she thought the best thing was. For at that moment there came the sound of running footsteps from the cloister outside. After a token thump on the door, it was flung open and Sister Martha stood there, red faced and panting.

‘Abbess, oh, Abbess, I’m sorry to interrupt but you have to know, right away! I just went down to take Alba some fresh food and water, and the door was wide open — she’s gone!’

Brother Bastian, his face working, demanded instantly, ‘Who let her out? Do they not know the danger?’

‘Danger?’ Sister Martha echoed, staring blankly at Bastian and clearly wondering why a pilgrim visitor to Hawkenlye was being so pushy and rude. Why, indeed, he was standing in the Abbess’s room.

The Abbess, already getting to her feet, said, ‘Sister Martha? Have you any idea how this has happened?’

‘No, Abbess, indeed I have not!’ Sister Martha said hotly, as if she felt Bastian were accusing her of being personally responsible. ‘Only the three of us have been taking turns seeing to poor Alba, and we’re all very careful, I can assure you! Why, we usually make sure we’ve got-’

‘That will do, Sister Martha,’ the Abbess interrupted gently. ‘You found the door open when you went down into the undercroft, you said?’

‘Yes, wide open, and no sign of the woman!’

‘Then somebody must have let Alba out before you got there, and it can hardly be called your fault,’ the Abbess concluded. With a swift glance at Brother Bastian, fuming beside her and giving the impression that he wanted to wrest authority from her hands and take over, she went on calmly, ‘The important thing now is to find her. Sister Martha, summon three lay brothers and six nuns and divide them into three search parties. Sir Josse here, Brother Bastian and I will form a fourth. We shall meet in the courtyard as soon as we are all ready, and I will tell each party where to go. Hurry up!’