Alys Clare - The Joys of My Life

They had not gone far before a man and a woman stepped out in front of Helewise, who was riding at the front of the little procession. She drew up Honey and said warily, ‘What is it? Can I help you?’

The man had swept off his cap and was making her a clumsy bow. ‘No, Sister, it’s me as wants to help you,’ he said. Glancing over his shoulder, he lowered his voice and said, ‘I shouldn’t go down this street. Down at the bottom, there’s… er… I mean, it’s not suitable, not for you.’

The woman with him elbowed him out of the way and said, ‘What he means, Sister, is that down there’s where the brothels are. If you and your companions want a nice, safe place to stay, there’s a convent down that road.’ She pointed across the square. ‘Further out, there’s the shanty town where most of the workmen put up, but the convent’s not as far down as that so you’ll be quite all right.’ She beamed.

‘Thank you,’ Helewise said, privately wondering why people always imagined that those who wore the habit of religion had to be preserved from the rough side of life. ‘We shall follow your advice.’

The three of them turned their horses and set off back up the street, across the square in front of the cathedral and down the road opposite. Presently they came to a stout stone house set slightly back from its neighbours with iron gates leading into a small courtyard and what appeared to be stabling beyond an arch on one side of the main building.

A nun came out through the open door of the house, saw them and with a smile unlocked the gates. ‘Abbess Helewise?’ she enquired.

‘Yes.’

‘Please dismount and come in. I will send for someone to care for your horses. They have had a long ride, as indeed have you.’

For one bright moment Helewise thought Josse must be here and had notified the convent that she was on her way, but no, that was impossible, for he would surely have stayed on at Oleron for another day at least and could not have overtaken her.

A nun in a white veil had come hurrying to take the horses and now Helewise walked beside the sister who had admitted them, Brother Saul and Sister Caliste behind them. ‘Queen Eleanor’s messenger arrived yesterday evening,’ the nun explained.

‘He must have ridden hard to arrive a day before us!’ Helewise exclaimed.

‘Yes, indeed. They keep horses ready all along the roads between the main towns, you know. A man can ride very fast if he has a constant supply of fresh horses.’ Turning, the nun took in Caliste and Saul, as dusty and travel-stained as Helewise. ‘Your lay brother may lodge with the male convent servants,’ she said, ‘and your nun may attend you.’

‘Thank you, Sister…?’

‘I am Sister Marie-Agnes,’ the nun replied. ‘When you have refreshed yourself, I am ordered to take you to our Mother Superior, who has already made enquiries concerning your mission.’

As Sister Marie-Agnes led the way to a clean but unadorned guest room, Helewise reflected on the extraordinary qualities of the queen. She was not far short of eighty years old but still she kept a watchful eye on all that was important to her. Amid every other concern — including her grief — she had thought to prepare the way for Helewise.

It looked, Helewise thought hopefully as she sank down on to the narrow bed and watched Sister Caliste set about unpacking their bags, as if this business might be quite simply and speedily concluded. Then they could all go back to Hawkenlye — she swung her legs round and lay stretched out on the hard straw mattress — and what a relief that would be.

Over the next two days, Helewise threw herself into her mission. The convent’s mother superior — an elderly nun with an aristocratic bearing who was called Mother Marie-Raphael — accompanied her out each morning and together they sought out men of every calling from master mason to muleteer. Their task was not easy, for it meant enticing men away from this vitally important job to another, lesser one, and in a foreign land. Had it not been for the queen’s letters bearing her seal, Helewise realized that even with the formidable Mother Marie-Raphael beside her she would have got precisely nowhere.

On the evening of the second day, she sat in the convent parlour with Mother Marie-Raphael going through the many names and notes that she had scribbled down on scraps of parchment. ‘I think,’ she said slowly, ‘that we are doing well. The master mason has studied Queen Eleanor’s design and has undertaken to begin on plans for the new chapel straight away, and he has said he will come to Hawkenlye as soon as he can. In the morning, I am to see a carpenter who knows of a team turned off here because at present there is no work for them. The men to whom I have spoken have all promised to spread the word and anyone interested in coming to England will seek me out here.’

Mother Marie-Raphael nodded. ‘It is because it is for the queen.’

Helewise picked up her meaning. ‘Yes. Even outside her own land of Aquitaine, she is much loved.’

The old nun made an eloquent gesture of contempt. ‘Boundaries are not important for one such as she.’

Helewise was not sure the queen would entirely have agreed. ‘The workforce who build the great cathedrals seem to be a law unto themselves,’ Helewise said, ‘with no strong allegiance to any except their own kind.’

‘Yes, that is quite true. They give their devotion, their sweat and blood to those who inspire them. And — ’ she smiled wryly — ‘to those who can pay. Now, Helewise, I shall send for food and wine, for you and I have been on our feet since early this morning and we have earned a little respite.’

She got up to summon a servant but just at that moment there was a tap on the door and Sister Marie-Agnes came into the parlour. ‘Please, ma mere, there’s someone outside asking for Abbess Helewise.’

Mother Marie-Raphael frowned. ‘It may be the carpenter, although we did say tomorrow.’

‘He’s not a carpenter; he’s a man of quality, even if he is very tired and extremely dirty,’ Sister Marie-Agnes said. ‘He’s got a young monk with him.’

Helewise was on her feet. Her heart was singing but she managed to maintain a calm expression. ‘It sounds as if they are Sir Josse d’Acquin and Brother Augustus, who accompanied me to the Ile d’Oleron,’ she said. ‘There was a matter that they had to see to before coming on here to Chartres.’

Mother Marie-Raphael smiled. ‘I was informed that this knight would join you here. I am relieved that he has arrived. Bring him in,’ she said, turning to Sister Marie-Agnes.

Bobbing a curtsy, the nun hurried away down the passage, to return shortly afterwards with Josse striding behind her. Helewise looked at him; he was, as Sister Marie-Agnes had said, filthy, his face, hands and garments stained with dust and sweat. In that quick glance she also detected that he was deeply worried.

‘Sir Josse,’ she said, ‘it is good to see you.’ Turning to Mother Marie-Raphael, she made the introductions.

‘The lay brother who arrived with Abbess Helewise is lodging with the convent servants,’ the old nun said, studying Josse intently. ‘There is accommodation there fit for one of your rank, Sir Josse, if you will accept it.’

‘Aye, I will, and I thank you,’ he said.

‘Go and refresh yourself,’ Mother Marie-Raphael said in a tone that brooked no argument, ‘and then return to us here.’

Helewise could not protest, much as she longed to speak to Josse alone. She would have to wait to find out what fearful discovery had put that look on his face; she just hoped the wait would not be too long.

They found their time for a private talk early the following morning when, as soon as the morning office had been said and breakfast eaten, Josse asked Helewise to show him around the cathedral site. It was some time before the carpenter was due to present himself and they set off immediately.