Alys Clare: The Joys of My Life

She went into the abbey church very early one morning, following an almost sleepless night. Alone in the dim dawn light, she prostrated herself in front of the altar and begged the Lord to protect Josse and his young companion. They had been away for over three weeks and she was finding it very difficult to keep her fears at bay. They have gone after one man, she reminded herself again and again; the threat that they faced was no more than that. De Loup was from Aquitaine, and Josse might have had to follow him all the way there. Such a journey was not done quickly and, even having found de Loup, Josse would have to talk to him at length in order to persuade him to give up the black figure. It was foolish, she concluded, to imagine Josse and Ninian could possibly be safely back already. There really was no need to worry.

Yet.

And now, disconcertingly, Meggie had taken to keeping watch for her father by the abbey gates. It was as if she too felt that his return was sufficiently long overdue for it to be worrying. It might have been easier had the child expressed her fears in tears and demands for reassurance, or even in bad behaviour. Any of those would have been understandable; after all, both her mother and now her father had disappeared out of her life. Instead she kept up her vigil and barely said a word. It was heartbreaking.

Helewise dropped her face on to her folded hands and, for a few precious moments, let the Lord carry all her desperate anxiety. When presently she rose and slowly left the church, she thought that the burden did not feel quite so heavy.

Early in July, Hawkenlye Abbey received a visit from the kin of Sir Piers of Essendon. Helewise had sent word to them of his death and they had promised to come for his body once arrangements had been made. Since his death, Piers had lain in his sealed coffin down in the crypt of the abbey church; Helewise was well aware that several of the nuns who had nursed him often slipped away down there to sit with his gentle spirit.

She had not known the composition of his household, although Josse had said he believed him to be a widower. So it proved, for the deputation who came for his body consisted of a daughter, Adela, her husband and four attendants. Helewise received the couple in her room, taking the chance to tell the woman quietly of her late father’s last hours.

She had braced herself for some hard questions, for Adela had already been informed that her father had been murdered. It would only be natural for her to demand why Hawkenlye had not offered him better protection. When no such questions materialized, Helewise finally said, ‘We believe we know whose hand it was that ended your father’s life. Our local sheriff has been alerted. In addition, Sir Josse d’Acquin, a friend both of your father and of this community, has gone after the man and will do his best to see that he is brought to justice.’

Adela seemed strangely unmoved, merely giving a shrug as if the matter was of no concern. Perhaps she was in shock, Helewise thought, instantly sympathetic. ‘Would you and your husband like to stay at the abbey for a day or two?’ she asked kindly. ‘You could talk to the nuns who cared for your father and, if anything occurs to you that you’d like to ask, you could-’

But Adela was already standing up, commanding her husband with a jerk of her head to do the same. ‘No,’ she said. ‘We’ll take him and bury him. Then we intend to get on with our lives.’ She drew herself up and there was a glint of avarice in her steely eyes. ‘Essendon is ours now.’

Silently Helewise saw them out to where their horses waited, beside a cart on which the coffin now rested, the servants standing around it and uneasily shuffling their feet. She watched the couple mount up and lead the way out through the gates, the cart trundling along behind. She stood there until all that could be seen of the party was the cloud of dust hanging over the road.

As finally she returned to her room, she was consoled by the thought of Ninian. Piers had cared for Ninian; if the boy had returned that affection, then at least Piers had died knowing that somebody would grieve for him. Although she knew she must not judge, she could not help thinking that his hard-hearted daughter was too busy enjoying her inheritance to waste a moment mourning her father.

It was very sad.

July crept on, each day seeming to pass with painful slowness as Helewise and the Hawkenlye community waited for Josse to return. The chapel continued to rise up on its shady site in front of the trees and word of it had spread far and wide, causing a large increase in the number of visitors to the abbey. The monks and lay brothers in the vale were kept busy looking after them, as were the infirmary nuns. For many people, it was rare indeed to make the journey to Hawkenlye, and those with nagging complaints and chronic illnesses took the chance to speak to a healer while they were there. Meggie was in demand in both the vale and the infirmary, and she divided her time between the two. Sister Euphemia reported that even at the tender age of six and a half, the child had a way with the sick.

Helewise too had more than enough work to keep her occupied. Nevertheless, she found time each evening to collect Meggie and go up to the new chapel. One evening as she and the little girl were setting out, Sister Tiphaine hurried to join them.

‘My lady,’ she said, bowing deeply, ‘I have been commanded to ask if you will go into the forest before you visit the chapel. There is someone there who wishes to speak to you.’

Helewise regarded the herbalist levelly. She was long past telling her that as a vowed nun she obeyed commands solely from her abbess; instead she said, ‘Very well. Is she there now?’

Sister Tiphaine smiled. ‘You know to whom I refer.’

‘I do.’

‘Yes, it’s her, and she’s waiting. Shall I lead the way?’

I know the way, Helewise thought, but she nodded.

The Domina was standing in the middle of the clearing. Sister Tiphaine took Meggie off to show her a red squirrel’s drey and, as soon as they were out of earshot, the Domina said, ‘He is on his way home.’

Helewise’s eyes widened. ‘Josse?’

‘Yes.’

For a moment she could not even form the words of a prayer; she just repeated silently, over and over again, ‘Thank you. Thank you.’ Then, calming, she wondered how the Domina knew. Perhaps other forest people had seen him and knew he was nearly home. It did not matter; just knowing that he was safe was enough.

‘He brings the black goddess with him,’ the Domina told her.

‘I knew that he would,’ Helewise replied, realizing the truth of this as she spoke. She smiled. ‘I’ve been watching Martin make a niche for her in the crypt beneath the new chapel and it never occurred to me that he was wasting his time.’ She paused, for what she wanted to say made no sense. Then she remembered to whom she was talking. ‘I’ve seen her there,’ she said dreamily. ‘I’ve stood there with my eyes half closed and it’s as if she is already in her special place.’

The Domina too smiled. ‘She has great power,’ she observed. ‘Perhaps she has already affected you.’ She studied Helewise intently. ‘You are changed, Helewise. Your mind encompasses more than it used to.’

Helewise considered this. ‘Yes. I’ve been thinking.’

‘Thinking can be dangerous.’ The Domina’s tone was neutral.

But Helewise knew full well what she meant. ‘I love the Lord no less,’ she said swiftly. ‘He is the pinnacle for me, the one shining example of a perfect life whose teachings I shall always strive to live up to, but there is more…’ She trailed off, unable to put into words the deep, disturbing possibilities that had crept through her mind as she contemplated that black goddess with her swelling belly.