Alys Clare: Ashes of the Elements

Abbess Helewise, reluctant to appear pushy and impertinent, nevertheless knew how her visitor felt about the community at Hawkenlye. In particular, about the miraculous spring that was the reason for the Abbey’s existence. It was, after all, at her insistence that there was such a grand Abbey there in the first place. And it was even more due to her that the Abbey was presided over by a woman. ‘Could you not spare even half an hour?’ Helewise said gently. ‘Could the world not wait for you, my lady, just this once, while you do something purely for your own pleasure?’

The Abbess’s guest gave her a rueful glance. And, with a short laugh, Queen Eleanor said, ‘No, Abbess. The world, I fear, is far too impatient for that.’

There was a brief and, Helewise thought, companionable silence in the little room. Risking a glance at the Queen, she observed that Eleanor had her eyes closed. Leaning back in her great throne-like wooden chair — Helewise’s chair, in fact, although Helewise was willingly perched on a wooden stool so as to give her guest the most comfort that the Abbey could offer — the Queen’s still-beautiful face was, Helewise thought, a little pale.

Even if she has not the time to visit the shrine, Helewise decided, then we shall at the very least feed her before she departs. Silently rising and moving to the door, she opened it and crooked a finger at the nun standing in attendance outside.

‘Yes, Abbess?’ Sister Anne asked eagerly. Like all the nuns, she was aware what honour a visit from the King’s mother bestowed on the Abbey. Such was the community’s love for Eleanor that Sister Anne — also like all of them — would have walked barefoot over hot coals if the Queen had demanded it.

Helewise laid a warning finger across her lips. ‘Hush. The Queen is resting,’ she whispered. ‘Sister, please will you go the refectory and ask Sister Basilia to prepare a light meal? The Queen looks so weary,’ she added, half to herself.

‘That I will, and gladly!’ Sister Anne hissed back. ‘Poor lady, it’s no surprise, why, all that travelling, and at her age, too! Why, she should be-’

‘The food, Sister?’ Helewise prompted gently.

‘Yes, Abbess, sorry, Abbess.’ Sister Anne blushed and hurried away.

Helewise went back inside the little room, quietly closing the door behind her. She did most things quietly, with a serene grace of which she was unaware. Even the large bunch of heavy keys that always hung at her belt were quiet, kept from jingling and rattling together by the Abbess’s hand laid on them whenever she moved.

Queen Eleanor opened her eyes and looked at the Abbess as Helewise resumed her seat. ‘You are too big for that stool,’ she observed.

‘I am quite comfortable,’ Helewise lied. ‘My lady, I have taken the liberty of ordering food for you. Even if you must rush off after but one night with us, will you at least take a moment to eat before you go on your way?’

Eleanor smiled. ‘You are too kind,’ she murmured. ‘And, yes, indeed I will.’ She shifted in her chair, with a quick wince of pain. ‘Your sister out there was quite right. I am far too old for all this charging about.’

‘I am sorry,’ Helewise said quickly. ‘She shouldn’t have spoken with such disrespect.’

‘Disrespect? No, Abbess, I heard only kindness.’

Sensing a mild reproof, Helewise said, ‘I meant only that it is not appropriate for us to gossip about how Your Majesty sees fit to conduct her life.’

Even to Helewise, it sounded a pompous and fawning little speech, so she was hardly surprised when Eleanor gave a sudden shout of laughter. With a glance up at the Queen, Helewise grinned briefly and said, ‘Sorry.’

‘So I should think,’ Eleanor murmured. ‘My very favourite retreat, so conveniently placed between London and the coast, and its Abbess’ — she met Helewise’s eyes — ‘also my favourite, incidentally, starts speaking like any other ingratiating subject wishing a boon of me.’ Leaning forward suddenly, she said, ‘Helewise, please, never become like everyone else.’

Not entirely sure what the Queen meant, nevertheless Helewise said, ‘No, my lady. Very well.’

There was a timid tap on the door, and, in answer to Helewise’s ‘Come in,’ a novice from the refectory sidled into the room, bearing on one arm a wide pewter dish. ‘Her Holiness’s meal,’ the girl whispered.

‘Majesty will do,’ Eleanor remarked mildly. ‘I am not a pope, merely a queen.’ She frowned briefly. ‘A queen mother, indeed, now,’ she added under her breath.

Helewise had been longing to ask the Queen a hundred questions about that very matter for the past twenty-four hours, but, lacking anything that could possibly be regarded as an opening, had managed to learn little more than the barest details. Now, watching the Queen swiftly demolish the appetising and prettily presented meal — Sister Basilia had put a posy of dog roses on the edge of the dish — Helewise waited until the last piece of bread had wiped up the last drop of gravy. Then she said, ‘The marriage will be a success, do you think, my lady?’

Eleanor leaned back in her chair, patting at the corners of her mouth with a linen square. ‘A success?’ She gave a faint shrug. ‘It depends, Abbess Helewise, what you mean by success. If you mean, will the union prove fruitful, then I can only say that I pray day and night that it will do so. If you mean will my dear son and his bride find joy in one another’s company, then my answer is that I very much doubt it.’

Helewise said softly, ‘Ah.’ There was, she reflected, little else she could say.

‘It had to be done!’ Eleanor exclaimed. ‘I knew, as soon as I saw Berengaria, that she was not the ideal bride for him. But what was I to do?’ She spread her long hands, palms up, the fingers heavy with rings, towards Helewise. ‘Richard has been King of England for almost two years, and, but for four months, he has been out of the country.’ Eleanor clenched one of her hands into a fist and, with some vehemence, thumped it down on to the long table which, desk-like, stood in front of Helewise’s chair. ‘Crusading, always crusading!’ she cried. ‘First, he alienates his new subjects by that brazen sale of offices, then he dashes off to France to receive his pilgrim’s scrip and staff! A brief pause while he supervises the mustering of his enormous fleet, and then off he goes to Outremer!’ Eleanor’s wide, dark eyes held passionate anger. ‘Not a thought, Helewise, for what he has left behind him for others to sort out! Not a care that, even before he left, already there was talk that he did not intend to return! That, far from applying himself to the great duty of reigning over England, he had ambitions to become the next King of Jerusalem!’

‘Surely not!’ Helewise exclaimed. The rumours were not, in fact, new to her; she had heard them before, many times. Heard worse, too; some said darkly that King Richard’s conduct since ascending the throne was so ill-considered that surely he must be unbalanced. That he suffered from some secret sickness which affected him in both body and mind, and which would probably kill him before the Crusade was out. But those rumours, Helewise decided, she certainly wouldn’t pass on to Richard’s mother.

Certainly, not while those remarkable eyes still looked so furious.

‘ Why must he insist on this course!’ Eleanor was saying. ‘What, really, does it matter to the average Englishman who rules over the Holy City?’

‘But surely-’ Helewise began.

Eleanor’s eyes fixed on to hers. ‘Helewise, do not try to tell me that you give a jot either way,’ she said. ‘Whilst it is all very laudable to express the opinion that Our Lord’s city must be occupied and governed solely by Christians, I cannot believe that you truly feel that the aim of recapturing it is worth all the effort. The expense of it, Abbess! Not to mention the pain, the losses, the anguish. The deaths.’ Her face fell, as if, speaking of such things, she was imagining them happening to her beloved son.