10 The Squire's Tale Page 5

  How long that would have kept Sister Johane from her supper went unlearned as a firm rap at the outer door paused everyone where they were with the surprise of it, even Sister Amicia about to be first into the refectory, but before any could move toward the door, Ela of the guesthall servants, having followed her knock with letting herself in, came hastening into sight and both Domina Elisabeth and Dame Juliana as hosteler and in charge of the priory’s guests and guesthalls changed course to meet her because her coming had to mean something or someone out of the ordinary had happened.

  Curiosity balanced against hunger held the others where they were and even stayed Sister Johane’s hand so that Mistress Cat with a disgusted twitch of its tail at the fickleness of humans flowed off the wall and into the garth, just as everyone realized Ela was not come in alone but was followed by two women, more slowly enough that she had reached Domina Elisabeth and begun saying something before they came from the shadowed passageway into the cloister’s better light. Frevisse had time to note they were both well-dressed for travel before Katherine, not far off from them with Mistress Dionisia and Lucy, and Helen, made wordless exclaim and started toward them, instantly raising Frevisse’s curiosity well past her hunger. But in the same moment Domina Elisabeth turned from Ela to gesture her nuns on toward the refectory, and perforce, with only slightly dragging pace and watching over their shoulders, they went, leaving their prioress, Katherine, and the two newcomers in head-near talk too far away for anything to be heard.

  Once into the refectory, curiosity gave way to hunger again, and as she began on the gourd-onion pottage waiting for them, Frevisse was sorry for Sister Thomasine whose turn it was this week to read aloud while the others ate, her own meal put off until afterwards; but she would be more sorry next week when it would be her own turn to be reader and almost as sorry the week after that when it would be Dame Emma’s, because Dame Emma read with the grace and pace of a spavined horse. But for now Sister Thomasine’s low, even voice kept them company—“For the contemplative life has joy in God’s love, and savor in the life that lasts for always, in this present time, if it be right led. And that feeling of joy”—through the fish mortrewe that was their main dish and the apples cooked in cider with nutmeg that was the meal’s end. By then Dame Juliana had come to her place at the long table but since silence held during the meal no one could ask her anything, even whether Domina Elisabeth was going to join them. Curiosity was kept waiting until they had finished and grace was said, but once they were out of the refectory and into the cloister walk, recreation’s hour was begun and talk could flow freely and it did. With evening shadows and cold quickly coming on together, no one lingered on their way to the warming room but that did not slow the questions tumbled at Dame Juliana who answered them in the order she chose to deem important, beginning with, “I bade Alsun in the kitchen take supper to Domina Elisabeth and the others in the parlor. That’s all seen to. And spiced cider, too.”

  ‘My accounts,“ murmured Dame Perpetua, momentarily diverted because now she would have to record the guests’ food and drink with the kitchen expenses when otherwise they would have been a guesthall matter.

  ‘But who are they?“ Dame Emma cried out in distress.

  ‘If I caught the name a-right, she’s Lady Blaunche Fenner. Katherine knows them, anyway. It’s her waiting-woman with her.“

  Frevisse and Dame Claire were gone ahead into the warming room. Most rooms in the cloister were warmed only by braziers or, most often, not warmed at all, making for cold goings to bed through the winter, let be rising at midnight for Matins and in the mornings. Only the kitchen, the prioress’ parlor, and here had fireplaces, and now was the last chance there would be today for warmth, and because whatever Dame Juliana might tell would be told and talked over again all through the coming hour nothing would be missed for long by reaching the fire first.

  Frevisse’s sigh and Dame Claire’s matched as they held their hands out to the low flames’ heat but behind them Dame Juliana was saying as she and the others came into the room, “come to take Katherine away,” and Frevisse, diverted from her comfort, looked around sharply to ask, “Away? Katherine?”

  ‘Oh, yes.“ Dame Juliana was sure of it. ”Something about dower lands and dealings and Katherine’s marriage. It was all jumbled but that’s why Lady Blaunche is here.“ The others were crowding to the hearth now as Dame Juliana added, ”It was her husband brought Katherine, I gather.“

  ‘I suppose so,“ Frevisse agreed. Robert had never said his wife’s name. She started to ask more but was interrupted by a sharp single knock at the door that no one had time to answer before Mistress Dionisia was quickly come in, saying as she came, ”Dame Claire! Pray you, come!“ urgently enough that Dame Claire left the fire without question, casting a look around for Sister Thomasine as she went and, not finding her, ordered, ”Sister Margrett, come, please,“ startling the novice up from a stool she had drawn near the hearth to follow her out.

  In their haste none of them shut the door, Mistress Dionisia’s voice disappearing into the darkness with, “She’s in the parlor…”

  Following after them to close the door, Sister Johane said, “Well, what was…” as Dame Emma exclaimed, “But what’s this about Katherine going away?” to Dame Juliana.

  Unfortunately there was nothing else Dame Juliana could tell beyond what she had already said but that did not keep the others from drawing their stools into a cluster beside the hearth and setting to talk it over some several times more. Only Frevisse kept aside, intent on enjoying the fire and this small while of nothing to do. But she found she could not keep away from the thought that if Katherine left then Lucy and Helen would be back on her hands and found besides, with a slight surprise, that she would miss Katherine. Little had passed between her and the girl and most of it had been about Helen and Lucy but Frevisse had begun to like her and to suspect that under the quiet good manners, there was more than Katherine let show and was interested in what it might be. At ease and warm, she let her thoughts drift to wondering what had happened that Robert had felt it well to send for Katherine and had Lady Blaunche come with the promised token or was it enough she had come herself?

  In the way of drifting thoughts, she somehow wended from there to wondering what could be done with Lucy and Helen when the weather would be warmer… and how much longer the copying would take… and on to nothing in particular, maybe even into a small drowse, pleasant beside the fire and despite the talk around her until of a sudden Domina Elisabeth swept in, bringing a draught of cold air despite how hurriedly she shut the door against the cloister’s darkness. She sometimes joined her nuns at recreation but they had not expected her tonight and stood up in flustered haste, Frevisse shoving sleep away, all of them offering her places beside the hearth.

  Rubbing her hands and holding them out to the fire, she refused Dame Juliana’s offer of a stool with, “No, thank you,” and a smile. “I’m not staying.” Adding, “It’s raining again.”

  Not bothering with pretense of interest in anything else, Dame Emma asked, “What was Dame Claire needed for?”

  ‘To see to Lady Blaunche,“ Domina Elisabeth answered readily enough. ”The lady is in her fourth month with child and was having not pains but some discomforts out of the ordinary and was a little frighted at it.“

  There were soft exclaims among the nuns and Dame Perpetua said gravely, “We’ll pray for her.”

  ‘That would be to the good, though all seems well now. Dame Claire says it was only that the riding tired her. She’s given her something to ease and quiet her and says there’s no danger to the child.“

  There were quick and knowledgeable nods among the nuns. Though it was no part of their own lives, they all had been at other women’s birthings before they came into the nunnery and knew something and sometimes too much of the uncertainties of childing.

  Solemnly, Dame Emma said, “Every dram of delight hath a pound of pain.”

  Too used to Dame Emma’s
fondness for ill-placed proverbs to pay this one any heed, Domina Elisabeth went on, “Dame Claire will spend the night with her in the guesthall with Lady Blaunche’s woman to help her if need be. Tomorrow, all being well, she purposes to return home, taking Katherine with her.”

  ‘Whatever was wrong has been settled?“ Frevisse asked.

  ‘I gather so. Though it seems the chest is to stay since it’s not been asked for.“

  Several mouths were open to ask more but Sister Thomasine, who had likely been not at supper all this while but eaten and then gone to pray in the church as was her wont, slipped in, bringing another cold draught and reminder from Domina Elisabeth that, “It’s time for Compline, my ladies,” the end of the day’s chance for talk.

  Chapter 4

  The next day began simply enough. Awakened by the cloister bell in the darkness before dawn, Frevisse rose and dressed by feel more than sight in the dim light from the lamp burning at the head of the dorter stairs, with all around her the rustle of the other nuns doing the same, and shortly, silently, they gathered in pairs in the passage between their sleeping cells, to go down to the cloister walk and along it to the church. The rain dripping softly off the eaves was hardly louder than the pad of their own soft leather shoes as they hurried to their choir stalls as quickly as if they would find warmth there. They did not, of course, except for what the candles gave once they were lighted and that was barely enough to warm fingers held to the small flames now and again for comfort and to make the turning of pages easier. Domina Elisabeth joined them, coming with equal haste from her own rooms, and the quiet gave way to their voices taking up Prime’s prayers and psalms of greeting to the day, tempered now with the necessities of Lent and turning to admonition— Quaerite Dominum, dum inveniri potest: invocte eum, dum prope est. Search for the Lord, while he can be found: appeal to him, while he is near—with Dame Claire’s sure voice missed on her side of choir but all else as usual, familiar as the east window beyond the altar graying with dawn as they came at last to Dominus nos benedicat, et ab omni malo defendat, et ad vitam perducat aeternam—The Lord bless us, and defend from all evil, and guide to eternal life… and Prime’s end, the final word drifting into a silence with only the distant hiss of rain on the roof, before Domina Elisabeth drew a deep, satisfied breath, quietly closed her prayer book, and led the nuns in rising to their feet and out of the church, into the cloister walk again and around to the refectory for what passed for breakfast in Lent. Today that meant bread and ale and a small boiled fish that had long since lost any sense of what it might once have been before being salted down in a barrel months ago and lately boiled, then made somewhat—but not much— more agreeable with ginger and cinnamon. But it was enough to hush if not greatly comfort bellies when they returned to the church immediately afterwards for the Mass. Dame Claire joined them on the way, and Frevisse was pleased to see in the nave not only Katherine, Mistress Dionisia, Lucy and Helen but the two women who must be Lady Blaunche and her woman. With the satisfied thought that yesterday’s trouble must have indeed been as slight as Domina Elisabeth had hoped, Frevisse turned her mind to the Mass, and when it was done and Father Henry gone to the sacristy to put off his vestments, the nuns left the church again, this time to the warming room for the daily chapter meeting where the nunnery’s business was talked through, decisions made, faults confessed and penances given. In past times there would have been a fire waiting for them, lighted by a servant during Mass, but among the things they did without these days of less than certain prosperity was a morning fire, so there was nothing to take off the damp chill steadily creeping through the layers of wool gown and undergown and linen chemise as they waited for Domina Elisabeth to join them. At Mass’ end she had gone aside to the women in the nave, nor had Dame Claire come to the warming room either and Frevisse was wondering what that might mean when Domina Elisabeth opened the door, said with no greeting to anyone else, “Dame Frevisse, come, please,” and turned away again without explanation. Frevisse shared startled looks with the other nuns even as she obeyed, following her prioress into the cloister walk.

  ‘The door, please, dame,“ Domina Elisabeth said, and Frevisse closed it. The rain had stopped for now, leaving only an irregular dripping off the eaves as she followed her prioress again, a few paces farther along the walk, away from the door, before Domina Elisabeth turned and said, ”Lady Blaunche is leaving this morning with Katherine as soon as may be. She took comfort from Dame Claire’s care of her yesterday and has asked that Dame Claire be allowed to go with her, to see her safely home. I’ve granted it.“

  Because no nun should leave the priory unaccompanied by another nun, Frevisse knew what was coming then but had no way to avert it.

  ‘I want you to go with her.“

  ‘It’s Lent,“ Frevisse protested.

  ‘It’s Lent outside the nunnery, too,“ Domina Elisabeth returned, unbothered.

  That was true enough, but it would be far harder outside the nunnery to keep it in all the ways it should be kept—in body, mind and spirit all at once—but Frevisse knew Dom-ina Elisabeth well enough not to protest that, tried instead, “What of the copying work if I’m not here?”

  ‘God will provide.“

  Frevisse had the unbidden thought that what Domina Elisabeth hoped God would provide was a gratefully large gift— preferably in coin—from Lady Blaunche or her husband but she bit back on the words, bent her head in obedience, and said instead, trying to leave feeling out of her voice, “Sister Thomasine would do best as precentress while I’m gone, I think.”

  Domina Elisabeth accepted both that and Frevisse’s obedience easily and went on to practicalities. “Dame Claire has gone to gather what she thinks she may need in way of medicines. Let you fetch what you’ll both need for travelling. A change of clothing. Cloaks. You know.”

  Frevisse bent her head again, acknowledging that she did.

  Domina Elisabeth hesitated, then added, “You might wear your cousin’s gift.”

  Her cousin’s gift of a few years back was a fur-lined gown, properly Benedictine black and of wool but altogether too fine for the vow of poverty every nun took, however well or ill she kept it afterwards, and assuredly too fine to wear among the other nuns—or anywhere else, if Frevisse had choice in the matter. By Domina Elisabeth’s leave it was kept folded away with herbs in the storeroom, for use if ever Frevisse’s cousin was to be met with—or to impress a possible patron—but Frevisse said quickly, “It would look ill for me to wear such and Dame Claire not. Better that we go just as we are.”

  ‘I suppose,“ Domina Elisabeth agreed with a regretful sigh. On the priory’s behalf, Frevisse hoped; but the small thought arose, as it sometimes did, that Domina Elisabeth, despite she kept her nun’s vows well, had not only a useful understanding of the world’s ways but sometimes a longing for them, too. Such as for a rich gown to impress another lady, even if on the priory’s behalf, not her own. But if she did, she rarely gave way to them and was saying now, crisply, as she moved toward the warming room door, ”See to the other things, then. Father Henry and I will come give our blessings before you go.“

  Gathering what she and Dame Claire needed and packing it into bags for travel took very little time but she had barely done before a servant was come to say Lady Blaunche was set to leave. Frevisse sent the woman to tell Domina Elisabeth and went herself to the infirmary for Dame Claire, finding her at the worktable there, strapping closed the box she carried medicines in when she had to go elsewhere.

  Not bothering with the silence they would have to let go of anyway once they were outside of St. Frideswide’s, Frevisse said, “They’re ready to leave.”

  Dame Claire gave the strap a final pull, secured the buckle, and said, “So am I. You’re in this with me, then?”

  Frevisse granted that with a rueful nod.

  ‘Ah, well.“ Dame Claire took the box from the table and came toward the door. ”What can’t be cured must be eaten with a long-handled spoon, as Dame
Emma might say.“

  With a slightly further sinking of her spirits, Frevisse realized by Dame Claire’s cheerfulness that she had no regrets at all about this going out. With her, love of God came first, love of medicine next, and love of prayers only somewhere, though probably closely, after that. For Frevisse it was otherwise; for her, her love of God was so closely bound about by praying that she had no way to unbind one from the other. To have to leave behind the Offices, knowing how difficult it was to keep to them even a little while dealing in the world…

  ‘We’re ready, then?“ Dame Claire asked, picking up the box.

  Frevisse held up her arms, a saddlebag and a cloak over each. “Change of clothing, change of shoes, night things, our breviaries and Psalters.”

  Dame Claire set the box down. “Best I put the cloak on here. Has the rain stopped?”

  ‘For a little. It looks likely to start again, though.“

  Going back through the cloister walk, they met Domina Elisabeth coming from chapter meeting to see them off and in the guesthall courtyard found Lady Blaunche’s four men waiting with the horses and Father Henry. While one of the men strapped Dame Claire’s bag behind her saddle and another took the medicine box to pack into one of the hampers on the packhorse, Father Henry and Domina Elisabeth gave their blessings and made farewell, with Father Henry at Domina Elisabeth’s prompting formally releasing them both from the saying of the Offices at length while they were gone. Such pardon was commonly given and, “Do as you can, best as you can,” Father Henry said. “God knows what’s in your heart.”