Alys Clare: The Joys of My Life

‘I have no need to ask if you are ready,’ the abbess said softly.

She smiled. ‘No, my lady. I have left everything neat and tidy. Whoever follows me will find the little house welcoming.’

‘I know,’ the abbess said with a smile.

‘Have you a candidate in mind?’

‘Yes. She is eager but she is young, and I am not entirely convinced that she understands the demands of the role.’

‘A term of trial, perhaps?’

‘Just what I had in mind. Can I help you carry your belongings? I will walk with you, if you wish it.’

‘Thank you, my lady, it is a kind offer, but I prefer to go alone.’

The abbess studied her. ‘I thought you might say that,’ she murmured. Then, stepping forward, she took the older woman in her arms and they exchanged a long, close embrace. Then the abbess let her go. ‘Goodbye. May God watch over you.’

‘I will be back, my lady,’ the woman murmured. ‘I shall be under an hour’s walk away, after all.’

‘You always go by the forest paths now,’ the abbess remarked. ‘You are fully at home there, I think.’

‘Yes. I often meet the Domina, and Tiphaine, although I sense that they will retreat from their ancestral lands here soon.’

‘Soon?’ The abbess looked dismayed.

‘Oh, it will not happen yet. But the world changes, my lady, and there is nothing we can do to stop it.’ She sighed. ‘Already men encroach on the forest fringes, for despite our king’s best efforts, still families manage to prosper and grow, and they need room to spread. It is the way of things.’

‘Yes,’ the abbess said slowly. Then, sadly, ‘Nothing lasts for ever.’

Her companion put an arm round her waist. ‘Some things do,’ she said softly. ‘Love. Memory.’

‘Memory,’ whispered the abbess. ‘Ah, yes.’ Then, brushing at her eyes, she said, ‘Go on, be on your way before I start weeping! This is a joyful day and I would not spoil it.’

The woman smiled, a deep, serene smile born of utter contentment. ‘Nothing could do that,’ she murmured. Then, making the deep reverence that was her abbess’s due, she had shouldered her small pack and strode off into the forest.

She was close now to the house in the woods. She could hear his voice and silently she called out to him. He must have heard; she saw his head and his broad shoulders appear over the tip of the low bank that surrounded the little settlement. Not so little now, she thought, for over the years as children had been born he had built on and the house extended outwards on both sides. It was still a lovely house, she thought. A happy house and, thanks to him, full of love.

He had caught sight of her and, his face lighting up, he hurried to meet her. She broke into a run.

Josse had sensed her approach. He had been waiting for this moment for so long and he could scarcely believe it was here at last. He had always known what he wanted; the difficult choice had been hers. They had talked long and he knew why she had finally made up her mind. He accepted what she said, although he was not sure he entirely understood. Not that it mattered, as long as she was happy.

He stared at her as she ran towards him. He saw a tall woman, leaner now than she used to be — the years had been hard — dressed in a simple black robe. She was bareheaded, the short, springy reddish hair now turning grey. She was smiling, and he caught the glint of tears in her eyes.

He stood quite still and opened his arms. She walked into his embrace. They stood without speaking for a while.

Then she said, ‘You’ve been digging again. I can tell from the way you’re standing that your back’s aching.’

‘Meggie will be home soon,’ he replied serenely. ‘She’ll rub on some of her magic oil and the pain will melt.’

‘That’s as maybe, but you still do too much. I thought I’d come and help you, if you can do with another pair of hands.’

He rested his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. She spoke lightly but he knew the profound meaning behind the levity.

‘You’ll stay?’ His voice broke on the words.

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Abbess Caliste received the document this morning.’

Josse lifted his head and, eyes closed, said a swift silent prayer of thanks. It was over; she had done it.

He took her hand in his and led the way up towards the house. Helewise, who had stepped down as abbess when Queen Eleanor died and had for the last six years lived alone in the little house beside the chapel, walked beside him.

She loved him; she had loved him for twenty years. She had told herself that ordinary human love was not hers to enjoy, for she had heard and answered a different calling, but the voice that had called and went on calling had subtly altered and it no longer emanated from the Church, for the Church itself was no longer the same.

She had seen him love and lose another woman; she had seen him master his grief and pick himself up, making a refuge in this house in the woods not only for his own two children but for his adopted son and for all the others who came to him because they loved him and wished to be with him.

And now, she thought, now I am doing the same. She leaned against him as they walked, squeezing his hand…

And he squeezed back. Helewise, he thought, his heart overflowing. Here with me, at last.

They reached the low bank and together they climbed over it. As they approached the house, its old stones glowing golden in the summer sunshine, a burst of laughter from the children rang in the warm air.

It was like a blessing.