The Song of the Nightingale Page 4

  It was a skill she had learned from her mother. It pained Meggie to remember, but sometimes Joanna had felt compelled to disguise the hut’s location when Josse came looking for her.

  Oh, Meggie thought, oh, but there were things about her mysterious mother that she would never understand.

  Now, of all times, she really needed the peace and privacy of the little hut. Of late she had been beset with both dreams and waking visions of her brother Ninian, and the overriding message that they left in their wake was the urgent, driving need to get in touch with him and tell him he must come home.

  Why? she wondered as she curled deeper inside her blankets. Why now, and not before? As soon as he had gone, for example, or when her father and Helewise had returned last autumn after their unsuccessful attempt to find him? There had to be something else; something over and above the fact that his family all missed him so acutely; that they worried about him so much more now that they knew the place he had been sent to by Gervase de Gifford – his mother’s address in Béziers – was in the middle of a ferocious war.

  Why do I feel so compelled to send word to him?

  What she needed, she knew, was to open herself in deep meditation so that her mother could get through to her, for Joanna had been a silent presence in Meggie’s dreams, unseen but constantly sensed. Meggie knew – although she didn’t know how she knew – that Joanna wanted to be involved; was offering her help, if only Meggie would accept it.

  I do not understand how she can help, Meggie thought, her distress growing. Joanna was dead; gone from the world these twelve years, disappearing in some sort of vision in Chartres Cathedral, which Josse seemed to know something about but of which he was so very reluctant to speak that Meggie could not bring herself to press him.

  But the fact remained, even if Meggie didn’t understand: she desperately needed to reach her half-brother, via some sort of mental communication that was also beyond her comprehension, and somehow her mother – his mother too – was telling her urgently that she had the means to bring this about. What Meggie had to do was to isolate herself, bring about a trance state – that bit was easy enough – and wait.

  The problem was that she could not do this in the House in the Woods. Apart from the difficulty of finding a time and a space to be alone, she had long schooled herself to close herself off from her mother when she was under her father’s roof. Josse had loved Joanna very deeply; Meggie suspected that he still did. He had worked so hard at learning to live without her, and Meggie knew perfectly well that, one day, he hoped he and Helewise might become more than the good, true friends they had been for so long.

  He doesn’t need the reminder of his earlier love, Meggie thought. It wouldn’t be fair. He was working so hard at learning to live without her, and Meggie would not countenance anything that would interrupt the process.

  Just at that moment, as the thin dawn light at last began to penetrate the gaps in the shutters, Meggie did not know what she was going to do. It was still early; nobody would be awake for ages. She might as well go back to sleep . . .

  Little Helewise opened her eyes and looked across at her sleeping room-mate. Meggie was snoring softly; not enough to have disturbed Little Helewise, and, now she was awake, the sound was rather friendly and companionable.

  For a while she just lay comfortably in her warm bed and stared across at Meggie. It was such a relief to be here; even better to be sharing a room with the person she so much wanted to talk to. She was tempted to reach across and nudge Meggie awake. She didn’t think Meggie would mind, and Little Helewise was bursting to speak to her.

  No. She tucked her hand back beneath the bedclothes. She would let Meggie sleep on. Now that she’d got here, and Josse and his lovely family had made her feel so welcome and let her know without any doubt that she could stay as long as she wanted, there really wasn’t any hurry. It would just be a matter of finding a moment when – Little Helewise yawned hugely – she and Meggie could be quite alone, with no fear of interruption. And that was hardly going to be difficult . . .

  Little Helewise curled up like a kitten by the fire and went back to sleep.

  Before they had all retired to bed the previous evening, Josse had sought out Helewise and repeated quietly to her what Gervase de Gifford had told him. He had said he would set out for Hawkenlye Abbey early the next morning.

  Helewise had been thinking about that for much of the night. Now, rising early and making her preparations, she knew that she must speak to Josse as soon as he was up.

  It was a pity that she must act now, when her beloved granddaughter had only just come to stay, but that couldn’t be helped. Helewise felt she was a driven woman: everything else – even love and obligations to family – came second. Now, using the quiet time before the rest of the household was up and about, she sat down on her narrow bed and reflected over what had led her to her decision.

  Helewise knew how much her successor, Abbess Caliste, must be suffering as she tried to maintain Hawkenlye Abbey’s great reputation as a refuge, a place of help, healing and comfort, under the harsh conditions of the interdict. Although Helewise had long made up her mind that she would not risk stirring up memories of her own regime at Hawkenlye by returning to the abbey, nevertheless, as the weeks and months had passed, she had felt increasingly uncomfortable doing nothing to help. Yes, sometimes the hungry, the sick and the desperate made their way into the depths of the forest and sought her out in her small room in the House in the Woods, but so few knew that either she or the house were there, and the total number she had managed to comfort in some way remained pitifully few. And so many were in need!

  The idea had come to her late one night as she finished her prayers and got wearily into bed. The abbey itself might be unavailable to her, but what about the little cell beside St Edmund’s Chapel? She had lived there for many years between standing down as abbess and coming to live in Josse’s household. Putting aside false modesty, she admitted to herself that she knew she had done good there. And now, when the abbey church’s huge doors were firmly closed against the populace, the little chapel, overlooked as it was, could surely be a place of true solace. Helewise could return to her little cell – winter would surely soon be easing its grip at last – and maybe other like-minded women could join her there. Helewise could pray with people, provide a kindly ear as they poured out their troubles and, hopefully, offer sound advice. While she was competent enough to deal with minor wounds and the more common ailments, she was, however, no healer and knew little about herbs. Perhaps Tiphaine, formerly the herbalist of Hawkenlye Abbey, might be persuaded to join her and add her unique skills to Helewise’s enterprise? Perhaps even Meggie would consider helping? Both women were healers, in their way; both were exceptionally good at their craft. Until recently, the idea had been just a dream; now, Helewise had made up her mind that the dream was going to come true.

  Josse overslept and had to be roused by Will. He came reluctantly out of deep sleep, yelled at Will and had to apologize; he upset the bowl of water Will had provided for him to wash and shave his face and was forced to complete the task with icy water straight from the butt outside; he fell over as he tried to ram a cold foot into his boot and banged his head on the end of his bed.

  All in all, it was not a great start to the day.

  The rest of the household had finished breakfast by the time he sat down to eat his. He chewed mechanically on dry bread and a rather stale piece of cheese, thinking about the mission he was about to set off on and reflecting that going to Hawkenlye Abbey was not quite the same now that Abbess Caliste was in charge. Not that Josse had anything against Abbess Caliste, except that she wasn’t Helewise. Josse had always so enjoyed attempting to puzzle out even the most gruesome mysteries of violent death when he was doing it with Helewise.

  As if she had sensed he was thinking about her, Helewise glided into the hall and came to stand at his shoulder. He smiled a greeting, patting the bench beside him in invitation. She sat
down and he said, ‘Would you like to share my herbal infusion? Meggie made it to fortify me for my journey, and there’s plenty here.’

  She hesitated, and it seemed to him that she was looking at him strangely.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked. Anxiety grasped his heart. ‘Oh, Helewise, you are not unwell?’

  ‘No! Oh, no, Josse, I am perfectly all right.’ Briefly, she touched his hand with her fingertips. ‘Only, there is something I must say.’

  He realized he was holding his breath. ‘What is it?’ A dozen terrible answers ran through his head, and he tried to dismiss them all.

  She must have appreciated what he was feeling, for instantly she began to speak. ‘Josse dear, I cannot reconcile my conscience if I remain here doing so little, when out in the wider world there are so many in such dire need. I have to do something to help. I cannot go back to the abbey, for reasons you and I have discussed before, but I intend to ask Abbess Caliste’s leave to return to the cell by St Edmund’s Chapel, where I lived before I came here, and from there offer aid and support as I once did.’

  He felt his heart race. He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry. He swallowed and tried again. ‘For ever?’ he whispered.

  He did not think she understood, at first. Then she did, and her face went pink. She had been looking into his eyes, but now hers dropped. She stared down at her hands, the fingers twisting together, and said, very softly, ‘I don’t know.’

  He didn’t stop to think. The idea of her leaving, going back to the tiny dwelling beside the chapel and living there all alone, without him, was intolerable.

  ‘You would not be safe there on your own,’ he said harshly, pushing back the bench and pacing to and fro across the hall. ‘I cannot let you do it, Helewise.’

  ‘Dear Josse, I am not asking your permission,’ she said gently. ‘Since you are bound for the abbey this morning, I’m asking if you will escort me there and, once inside, ask Abbess Caliste if she will come out to speak to me. It is her permission I need,’ she added softly.

  He stopped his pacing, pausing to stand right in front of her. Was this it, then? he wondered. Was this the end of his dream to change his relationship with this beloved woman, so that at long last they might be to one another what he had always hoped they would one day be?

  He studied her calm, resolute face.

  It seemed it probably was.

  ‘You’d better prepare your pack,’ he said roughly. ‘I’m leaving as soon as I’ve finished my breakfast.’

  But he found his appetite had vanished. Turning on his heel, he muttered that he was going to see about the horses, and hurried out of the hall without looking back.

  Had he done so, a swift look at Helewise’s face might have given him pause for thought.

  Josse had barely finished asking Will to prepare Helewise’s mare when Meggie came running into the stables. Without preamble she took hold of his hand and said, ‘Father, Helewise has told me she’s going back to the cell by the chapel, and I want to go too.’ He made as if to speak but she wouldn’t let him. ‘No, no, please hear me out! I know you’ll say it isn’t safe and we’ll all get attacked and robbed and raped, but Helewise is going to get Tiphaine to join us, and Abbess Caliste will probably send one of the younger lay brothers to look after us at night, and we’ll be as safe there as here, Father, I know we will!’

  He shook his head, quite bemused. Why would Meggie want to go and live in the tiny cell? She didn’t—

  Then he knew. St Edmund’s Chapel was the closest building to the hut in the forest where Joanna had lived; where, indeed, Meggie had lived all her life until she came to the House in the Woods.

  For perhaps the first time ever, he looked at his daughter with an emotion other than solely love. ‘I would prefer it if you were honest about your motives, Meggie,’ he said, his tone chilly. ‘It is your hut, rather than helping Helewise tend the needy at the chapel, that draws you, I think.’

  Anger stirred amid the bright lights in her brown eyes. ‘You malign me, Father,’ she said, equally coldly. ‘I admit I am desperate to return to the hut, and I’ve made no secret of the fact. I shall indeed try to visit it, but it is not the reason I want to go with Helewise.’ Before he could ask her to explain, she ploughed on. ‘Helewise said she’ll need healers, and I am a healer. I’m useless here,’ she said with sudden vehemence, ‘and not being able to do what I know I can do well makes life all the harder and Ninian’s absence more painful to bear.’

  ‘Don’t you think we all feel that way?’ he demanded.

  ‘About Ninian, yes, of course,’ she said hurriedly. ‘But, Father, you, Geoffroi, Will and Gus are busy from dawn to dusk, as are Ella and Tilly, for the work you all do is right here. What is there left for me? I cannot do what I excel at, and everyone else is so efficient that there is very little left for me to do!’

  Her words echoed faithfully Helewise’s of a short while earlier. Had he not known both women better, he might have suspected them of collusion.

  He raked through his mind, trying desperately to come up with something with which he might appeal to her, even though he was all but certain it was useless. Then he had an idea. ‘What about Little Helewise?’ he demanded. ‘She’s come here to stay with us, undoubtedly because she wants to be with her grandmother and with you, a young woman close to her own age who also loves Ninian dearly, and yet here you are, you and Helewise, planning to run out on her the moment she’s arrived. Is that kind, Meggie?’

  Meggie’s face filled with such love and tenderness that he gasped. ‘Oh, dearest Father, I’m so sorry, but that is no reason to stay!’ she cried, and he saw tears in her eyes. ‘You see, Helewise had the same thought. She’s talked it over with Little Helewise, and she’s coming with us.’ Again, he started to protest, and again she didn’t let him. ‘I know, I know, the little cell by the chapel is hardly suitable for a girl like her, used to considerable luxury, but we’ve thought of that. She can stay down at the abbey if she’d rather, where without doubt the nuns will find her plenty to do to take her mind off worrying about Ninian.’

  Josse felt the passion and the anger flow out of him. Suddenly feeling very tired, he sank down on a straw bale and dropped his head in his hands. ‘You seem to have it all worked out,’ he said from behind them. ‘If you won’t listen to me when I express fears for your safety, if you won’t pause to consider that I might worry about you, miss you, then who am I to stand in your way?’ His voice had risen, and he made himself stop and draw a deep breath. ‘Go and pack a bag,’ he said wearily. ‘I despair of you all.’

  He heard a sound break from her – perhaps a sob? – and then her hurrying footsteps running out across the yard. When he looked up, she had disappeared round the corner.

  The journey through the forest from the House in the Woods to Hawkenlye Abbey was usually a pleasant one, whatever the season or the weather. Today, despite what he knew awaited him, Josse couldn’t wait for it to be over. He had asked Gus to come with them, fearing that he was in no state to protect three women if his worst fears were realized and they were attacked, and Gus was the only one who had a smile. Even his did not survive the first couple of miles, by which time the prevailing mood seemed to have affected him too.

  They reached the chapel, and Helewise turned to him. ‘Perhaps Little Helewise and Meggie might ride down with you while you ask Abbess Caliste if we may take up residence in the cell,’ she suggested. ‘They could then return here to give me the reply, leaving you free to proceed with your own business at the abbey.’

  It made sense. ‘Very well,’ he said curtly. ‘Gus, will you stay with Helewise?’

  ‘Aye, Sir Josse,’ Gus agreed. He was looking around him, interested, and Helewise, apparently noticing, dismounted.

  ‘Come, Gus, I’ll show you inside the chapel, and then we might have a look inside the cell and see what sort of a state it’s in,’ she said.

  Josse could bear to watch no more. He put his heels to his horse’s sides, and
Alfred set off at a canter down the long slope to the abbey. There was no need to turn round to see if Meggie and Little Helewise were following; he could hear them.

  If he had been holding out secret hopes that Abbess Caliste would refuse even to think of her predecessor and the two young women taking up residence in the cell by the chapel, Josse was doomed to disappointment. She pounced on the idea with delight, saying she’d been thinking along the same lines herself but, unable to spare any of the Hawkenlye nuns, monks or lay brethren, had let the matter rest.

  ‘But how perfect to have Helewise back!’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, Sir Josse, word will soon spread, and everyone will remember how very much they depended on her presence when she was there before. And she’ll have Meggie and her own granddaughter with her, so she won’t be alone, and we shall make quite sure that the cell is guarded at night. I’ll get some of our handier brethren to put up a shelter,’ she went on, apparently thinking aloud, ‘and finding volunteers to watch over three such courageous and good women will not present a problem.’ Suddenly, she looked up at Josse. ‘Do they need anything from us?’ she asked. ‘We have very little, but I would not like to think of them cold or hungry.’

  ‘They anticipated your agreement to the suggestion, my lady abbess,’ Josse said wryly. ‘They have brought with them from Hawkenlye Manor all that could be spared of food supplies, medicaments and blankets, as well as a small bag each of personal belongings. They will be as comfortable as the small space allows, I believe.’

  Abbess Caliste nodded. ‘Very well, Sir Josse. I shall go and see them myself once they have had a chance to settle in.’