Michael JECKS - Belladonna at Belstone

“God’s bollocks!” he shouted, appalled. Then clapped a hand over his mouth and blushed deeply when he caught sight of Paul’s scandalised face.

Carrying the cushion, Agnes walked down the stairs with Joan and was about to open the door to the cloister when the old nun stopped her. “Come, child, what is it? It’s clear enough that you’re depressed.”

There was a tradition in the convent that novices and young nuns could confide in the very ancient ones. The latter could advise the younger ones without anything necessarily being mentioned in chapter, thus saving embarrassment, whilst ensuring that the girl made penance of some form if necessary. Agnes was wondering how to answer when Joan chuckled fruitily, giving the astonished girl a look full of kindness.

“I daresay you’re going to tell me it’s a man. It usually is. My friend Bridget told me about her own man many years ago. Lovely woman, Bridget was. Confident, tall and willowy. Not at all like her daughter, Margherita.“

Agnes felt the hammer blow hit her breast. She gasped. “What happened to her?”

“My Bridget? Ah, the poor girl couldn’t stay here. She was too full of life and enjoyment of the sweeter things to be able to bind herself up in here with all the dreadful, crabbed old dragons!” Joan laughed. “She left the first time with… let’s just say it was a young man. And later when she was caught and returned, she had a child in tow, her Margherita. But the convent couldn’t hold her, and off she went. I doubt not that she’s a great lady now.”

“How come she was allowed to run away? And why wasn’t she punished for her misbehaviour?”

Joan gave her a very old-fashioned look. “Dear, when you get to my age, you’ll realise that most people fail at one time or another during their lives. Even the best of us. Now – is it a man?”

Agnes nodded.

“Then you have done something very wrong. But under the Church’s laws you won’t be hanged! And you will be here within the convent for many years. You haven’t taken the threefold oaths yet, you’re too young, and you will be a nun for many years. If you are not a virgin now, you never will be again.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll try to speak more plainly,” Joan said gently. “All I mean is, most of the nuns here who behave so reverently have also done as you have. You will have to give up the man at some point, but you might as well enjoy him while you can.”

And with that she left the astonished novice and, chuckling, went back up the stairs.

When Constance came back into the room, Hugh pointedly picked up the jug and cup. The infirmarer removed them from his grasp, taking them out to her chamber, where she poured the water away and filled the jug from a fresh stoup, adding a small amount of dwale. If Sir Baldwin should wake, it would be better for him to have a draught to help him sleep.

When she returned, Hugh was standing defensively at Sir Baldwin’s side while Joan cackled hoarsely. When she saw Constance, Joan coughed, hawked, and spat a gobbet of phlegm into the fire. “This fine fellow has no sense of humour,” she said, wheezing still with humour.

Hugh was not amused. “I was told to stay here and protect my master’s friend, and that I’ll do.”

“How did Agnes get in?” Constance asked, setting the jug down with a wiped pot. “Didn’t you see her?”

Reddening, Hugh muttered, “I had to go out.“

“He needed a piss!” Joan burst out, and then almost choked as the laughter threatened to throttle her.

“I was only gone a few minutes,” Hugh said sulkily. It was true. He had been as quick as he possibly could be, but in the nunnery he wasn’t sure where he was supposed to go, and finally had slipped between two buildings at the northernmost end of the cloister, well away from the church itself. It had taken some time to find the place, and he’d felt ready to explode by the time he stood at the wall, and then the pressure was so strong, he’d found it hard to relax and empty his bladder. As if to add insult, when he’d left the little alley and returned to the cloisters, a small dog snapped at his ankles. When Hugh almost tripped, several nuns laughed. Only a moment later he heard the prioress calling to the mutt.

Lucky really, he thought. If he’d not heard Lady Elizabeth, he would have swung his foot at the little sod.

“Don’t mind Princess,” she had said as the terrier trotted back to her. “She likes people. It’s just that she will have her little joke when she hears men. Never has liked them much – I suppose she hardly ever sees one in here.”

Hugh had made no comment, but slipped straight back up to the infirmary where he saw Agnes at Baldwin’s side.

Constance glanced at him, and her voice was kindly. “Hugh, if you need to leave the room again, let me know and I’ll stand watch over him. And if you are nervous about me, make sure that Joan is awake, and she and I can look after Sir Baldwin together. You should feel secure knowing that there are two nuns looking after him.”

Hugh said nothing, but his scowling countenance eased a little, and then he gave a faint nod of his head.

Agnes delivered the cushion and walked to her desk near the church, but her mind wasn’t in her work, and soon she slipped along the alley which led from the cloister to the garden beyond.

She’d only gone a few yards when her wrist was gripped, and the startled girl was pulled behind a tall bush. A voice whispered in her ear, “Hello, little lady – would you take pity on a poor man with a broken heart?”

“Luke!” She turned and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him through her veil. “Luke… Ah, Luke, it’s so good to see you.”

“Wasn’t easy.”

She pulled away. “You’ll never guess what I just learned. My sister is here!”

“Your sister?”

“Margherita! She’s Sir Rodney’s daughter as well. He met her mother and got her pregnant years before he met mine.” It was incredible to think that the hard-faced treasurer could be a half-sister.

Luke thought the same. “Will you speak to her about it?”

“Margherita?” Agnes pulled a face. “Would you? Anyway, how did you get here? I heard the prioress was going to lock you out.”

He grinned, his teeth flashing. “I climbed over the roof of the church just to be with you,” he stated solemnly.

She pulled away, studying him with a serious expression. “You came over the roof? That’s where Katerine died… You weren’t up there with her, were you?”

He felt as if his heart had stopped. “What, you think I could have thrown her from the roof? Little Kate? I couldn’t do something like that!”

She looked up at his wide, shocked eyes, and was impressed. If she didn’t know him so well, she’d have automatically and unhesitatingly believed him; but she knew that whatever else he might be, he was a good liar. She’d seen that when he’d denied sleeping with Katerine just before she’d found him in her arms.

The distrust was in her eyes, and he put his hands on her shoulders, shaking his head with apparent stupefaction. “You couldn’t believe I’d have chucked her off the roof, could you?”

“She was a pain, wasn’t she?” Agnes pointed out sharply. “She couldn’t stand you dumping her for me. What if she’d threatened to tell the prioress about us?”

“If she had, I’d have reminded my Lady Elizabeth that her own little bastard was screwing the canons, and she’d have shut up. What sort of trouble could Katerine have given us even if she’d wanted to?” He smiled, secure in the knowledge that Agnes didn’t know he had carried on with Kate even after Agnes had found them together. Of course, she never would find out now…