The Rose of the World Read online

  ‘You do not know where she is,’ she said instead. She was sure Tiphaine had no such knowledge for, had she done, she would have acted upon it.

  ‘No,’ Tiphaine agreed.

  ‘I need to know if anyone inside the abbey mentions her,’ Helewise said. ‘People always gossip, and it’s possible some visitor to Hawkenlye has seen or heard something of her. I—’

  ‘You want me to find out,’ Tiphaine finished for her.

  ‘You should see Abbess Caliste and explain what I need to know.’

  ‘She is already aware of what has happened. Selene has been to see her.’

  Selene. Caliste’s twin. Helewise had seen her once and believed she was Caliste. But that was long ago; with a shake of her head she brought herself back to the present. ‘I would dearly like to speak to Abbess Caliste, only I cannot—’

  ‘You cannot go yourself. I understand.’ Tiphaine had turned and was already walking away.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Helewise cried.

  Tiphaine stopped and looked at her over her shoulder. She smiled quickly. ‘Where do you think?’

  He did not know what to do.

  It was the day after he had taken her. At first it had been so easy; far, far easier than he had thought possible. Right from the start, once the audacious, brilliant plan had slipped into his head, events had played straight into his hands.

  He did not understand the impulse to creep away from the others and follow his lord when he had gone off under the trees. His lord had said, clearly and firmly: ‘Wait for me here.’ Usually, all the men obeyed his instructions automatically. They knew what he was capable of when he was in a temper, and his temper was all too easily aroused nowadays when, like all the wealthy and important men in the land, he had a sackful of problems to deal with. It had been as if a secret voice had spoken inside the young man’s head: Go after him. See what he’s up to.

  Whose voice had it been? The young man did not know. He heard voices quite frequently. Often they issued warnings concerning the other men: That one doesn’t like you. That one is whispering behind your back. That one means you harm. At first he hadn’t known whether or not to believe the voices, but lately he had begun to think that they – whoever they were – were his only true friends. When the voice had told him to creep after the lord, he had obeyed without question.

  He had watched carefully, and he had seen what the lord was looking at so intently. It hadn’t taken him long to come up with his brilliant idea. Everyone knew about the lord. The men exchanged the stories freely amongst themselves, always making sure the lord wasn’t in earshot, and it was thrilling to sit there and hear all about the things he had done. What a man he was! He was afraid of nothing and nobody, and he dismissed the boring old greybeards of the church and all their thou-shalt-nots with a snap of his fingers and a cruel laugh at their gullibility.

  He did just as he pleased, their lord.

  The young man wanted more than anything to be recognized, welcomed, taken into that precious inner circle of the favoured. It is my right, he told himself. Very few of the others are to him what I am.

  The lord knew his identity, of course he did, but it did not seem to make any difference. The lord did not know what the young man was really like, so he would just have to show him. I am clever enough to know what pleases the lord, the man thought, and I am resourceful enough to find it for him.

  Find her . . .

  Yesterday he had stayed carefully concealed as the lord watched the two figures walk away, only emerging from his hiding place once they were gone. The young man had remained hidden as the lord strode off, out from under the trees and away to where the other men were waiting for him. He had heard the lord’s shouted command and the jingle of harness metal and stirrups as the party had ridden away. He had hesitated for an instant – he would be in trouble when they discovered he hadn’t mounted up and gone after them – but he had decided that the lord would readily forgive him once he knew what he had been doing.

  Once the lord and the men had gone, the young man had set about finding her. It had been quite hard at first because she and the other person had gone to sit out in the open, in full view of the great abbey that sprawled on the edge of the forest. They were joined by an older woman, and for a while he believed that his wonderful plan would come to nothing. Then they all came back towards the trees and he had to hurry to hide. He followed them, always staying out of sight. Although the dark-haired young woman with the lights in her eyes sometimes stopped and stiffened, listening intently as if she sensed the presence of someone or something that should not be there, she did not see him.

  Then the older woman left, and he stayed close to the other two. Later, he followed them right across the forest – he had been frightened then – and over to where the trees began to thin out on the far side. He heard them chattering to each other and realized they were about to part, and he had to hurry on ahead so as to intercept her.

  Then that amazing thing had happened. She caught sight of him, and, although he swiftly turned his back, he believed the game was up. But she thought he was someone else. Someone she knew and trusted. He heard her say goodbye to the dark-haired one – ‘Goodbye, Meggie!’ she called – and he risked a quick glance to watch as this Meggie turned away, back the way they had come.

  The girl came right up to him, calling out to him: ‘Hello, Ninian! Thank you for waiting – shall we walk home together?’

  He would not have believed he could think so fast. He was extremely proud of his resourcefulness. He said swiftly, ‘Not Ninian, I’m afraid, but he sent me to come and meet you. We’re not going home; we’re all going to meet up at Meggie’s hut.’

  She looked up at him. ‘That’s where I’ve just come from,’ she said uncertainly. ‘Meggie didn’t say anything about us all meeting there.’

  ‘That’s because it’s a surprise!’ he said, smiling broadly.

  ‘A surprise?’ Still the doubt clouded her wide, dark eyes.

  ‘Yes! Ninian and the rest are taking food and wine over there, we’re going to make a big fire, and there’ll be singing and dancing!’

  Then she smiled. ‘I love dancing.’

  ‘So do I! Let’s dance together, shall we? I’d like that.’ As he spoke he was hurrying her away, back towards the western fringe of the forest, although not along the same track that the other woman had taken. That would not do, not at all.

  They went on chattering together, just as if they were old friends, and at last they emerged from under the trees close to the chapel.

  The girl looked anxious. ‘We’ve missed the path to the hut,’ she said. ‘We’ll have to go back into the forest and I’ll see if I can find it. It’ll be easier coming from this direction, because the path is clearer and—’

  He had to stop her. He said winningly, ‘I’ve got a horse and he’s really fast. Shall we go for a ride? We’ve got time. It’ll be ages till the food’s ready.’

  She stared at him, and he realized she was beginning to have her suspicions. ‘He’s jet black and his name’s Star because he’s got a star on his brow,’ he said. ‘You can ride behind me and I’ll show you how he goes. You really love horses, don’t you?’

  It was a gamble, but the voice in his head suggested it and the voice knew what it was about. Her face brightened into an eager smile, and she said, ‘Come on, then!’

  He took her little hand and hurried on to where he had tethered his horse earlier in the day. His horse was standing half-asleep, grass trailing from its mouth. He tightened the girth strap and helped her up, settling her behind the saddle, then he mounted. ‘Put your arms round my waist,’ he said and felt two slim, strong arms snake round him. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Yes!’ she cried.

  It was some time before she told him to turn back. When he refused, she became first upset, then angry, then, finally, afraid. ‘Where are we going? Where are you taking me? I want to go home!’ she cried, over and over again until he thought he would go ma
d.

  He found a desolate spot where a stand of trees grew in a bend of the river. He drew rein, dismounted and helped her on to the ground. He kept a firm grip on her wrist.

  He looked down into her face. Night was advancing fast, and he could only just make out her features.

  ‘I’m afraid we’re lost,’ he said, with some truthfulness since, in the darkness, he only had a vague idea where they were and he knew he would be lucky to find his destination if they rode on. ‘I’m really, really sorry.’

  She studied him, her eyes narrowed in concentration. He sensed she half-believed him. ‘What should we do?’ she asked.

  ‘We’ll stay here,’ he said decisively. ‘I have a thick blanket in my pack and you can have that. I’ll put on my heavy cloak. We’ll light a small fire –’ if he made sure to stay within the trees, nobody would see – ‘and we’ll have our own little camp. How does that sound?’

  She looked at him dubiously. ‘Is there any food?’

  He had some dried meat and a couple of apples in his pack. ‘Yes.’

  She sighed. ‘Very well, then.’

  That had been last night. This morning it had been much, much harder. In the end, he’d resorted to telling her where they were really going. She was both excited and afraid, but most of all worried because her family didn’t know where she was and what she was doing.

  He had to lie about that, too. He had told so many lies that his head was spinning. She was clever, too clever, and once or twice she had caught him out. That had led to more lies, all of them echoing around in his mind and competing with the voices that were shouting at him now.

  He would have liked to pull his head off and throw it away. In a rare moment of rational thought, he wondered what on earth he was doing. Sometimes he thought he was quite, quite mad.

  Now he really did not know what to do . . .

  Finally, he made up his mind. They would go on, just as he had planned.

  They were about to set off when he heard the sound of fast hoof-beats drumming on the ground. His head shot round, and he saw a hard-ridden horse pounding towards them. The rider was shouting and wildly waving an arm.

  He looked at the girl and read alarm in her face. ‘Hide in the trees with Star,’ he said urgently, and to his surprise she obeyed. Perhaps she had already made up her mind that he was not going to harm her, whereas whoever was approaching in such a hurry was an unknown quantity. There was no time to dwell on it.

  He put his hand on his sword hilt and turned to face the horseman.

  FOUR

  Tiphaine had spent the night in the herbalist’s hut at Hawkenlye Abbey. It was dry, fragrant and adequately comfortable. She had arranged some sacking on the wooden work bench and slept as soundly as she usually did.

  The hut had been her workplace for many years. She still went there regularly. Abbess Caliste knew about her discreet visits and did nothing to prevent them, for Tiphaine was a herbalist with a rare gift and without her hard-working hands those who visited the abbey in need would have been greatly the poorer. Nobody, including Tiphaine herself, was exactly sure of her present status. She had asked to be released from her vows but, unlike Helewise, she had not felt the need to have her departure from the abbey formally recognized. Besides, also unlike Helewise, Tiphaine was still involved in its day-to-day affairs. She just did not want to be a nun any more, for the church was changing and, even if she still loved the Lord who had come to earth as a man to save the world, she no longer cared for the mortal men who were in charge.

  Her status, Tiphaine had decided, really did not matter. It was immaterial to her and, as for the men of power, they had far greater things to worry about in this time of interdict than a half-pagan woman who wished to return to her true self . . .

  There was no real hurry to quit her night’s lodging, for it was unlikely that anybody would visit the herbalist’s hut that morning. As Tiphaine knew only too well, there was not the same demand for medicines and remedies because people did not flock to Hawkenlye now as they always used to. Tiphaine did not bother her head with the intricacies of the political debate that raged through the land. She simply saw two great men, one of them a king and one of them a pope, who ought to be able to do better than plunge a whole nation into confusion, uncertainty and hardship.

  Tiphaine got up, stretched, tidied away her makeshift bed and put more wood on to the small fire that smouldered in the brazier. She filled a pot with water and set it to boil, then reached up to the shelves with practised hands and mixed herbs for a drink. She set out a dry crust of bread and a strip of salted meat, eating the food slowly while she arranged her thoughts. When she had finished, and the herbal concoction was coursing through her body, she made sure the fire was dying down, packed up her bag and left the hut.

  She moved swiftly and silently and kept to the shadows. Dressed in black as she was, with her hood over her head, anyone glancing at her would have taken her for a nun. She crossed the cloister and walked along to Abbess Caliste’s room, tapping softly on the door. Invited to enter, she went in and shut the door behind her.

  ‘Tiphaine!’ Abbess Caliste’s face lit up. The big table in front of her was, Tiphaine noticed, strewn with pieces of vellum, each covered in tiny rows and columns of figures and what Tiphaine assumed were words. ‘How good it is to see you. Is there any news? Will you sit down?’

  Tiphaine shook her head. ‘Thank you, no. It is possible that some visitor to Hawkenlye may have heard or seen something concerning Rosamund’s whereabouts, and—’

  ‘And you wish to go among them and ask,’ Abbess Caliste finished for her. ‘Of course you must! Oh, Tiphaine, the family must be beside themselves with anxiety!’

  Tiphaine nodded. ‘Aye, for she is young and vulnerable.’

  Abbess Caliste looked down with a frown at the work spread before her. ‘I would help if I could, but the king’s agents were here yesterday and I have a great deal to do.’ She sighed. ‘Their demands are all but impossible.’

  ‘It is a heavy burden that you bear, my lady abbess,’ Tiphaine said.

  Caliste looked up at her. Tiphaine did not often address the abbess by her formal title – there were old and profound ties between the two of them that made their relationship unique – but just then she had done so deliberately, intending to remind young Caliste exactly who she was and encourage a little confidence. ‘You can do it, if anyone can,’ Tiphaine added, her voice so low that she was not sure Caliste heard.

  Caliste closed her eyes and her lips moved in a silent prayer, then, looking at Tiphaine, she said, ‘Tell me if you discover anything. May God help you all in your search.’

  Tiphaine nodded. Then she turned and quietly let herself out of the room.

  Next, Tiphaine went to the infirmary and spoke to Sister Liese. Sister Euphemia had at last acknowledged her years and now spent her days in Hawkenlye’s home for aged monks and nuns. Although she was always willing to offer help and advice, her legs and feet were swollen from decades of hard work and she found standing painful. She liked to sit in her chair by the door or, when the weather was warm, outside in the sunshine, watching and thinking. Sister Liese was a woman of middle age who had come to Hawkenlye on the death of her husband and had quickly proved to be a dedicated healer with a particular gift with the young. She had calmly acknowledged that taking over from Sister Euphemia was a hard task and, during her early years in the abbey community, she had been modest and self-effacing. Now that Sister Euphemia had finally retired, Liese had stepped into the role to which she had been appointed and, in her own quiet way, she was proving to be almost as firm a rock as her predecessor.

  Tiphaine told her briefly about Rosamund. Sister Liese nodded. ‘We have few patients at present,’ she said. ‘All have been here for at least two days, so it is unlikely that they can offer any helpful information. I will, however, be sure to ask anyone who comes in.’

  Next Tiphaine went down to the vale, where the monks were tending to the needs of a hand
ful of hungry-looking pilgrims. Brother Erse, Hawkenlye’s carpenter, was performing old Brother Firmin’s task of fetching holy water from the shrine. Brother Firmin had been dead for some time.

  She broke the news of Rosamund’s disappearance to Brother Saul and, horrified, he promised to ask the visitors if they could offer any information. ‘Some of us might go out and join in the search,’ he offered. ‘The dear Lord knows, we’ve little enough to do here.’ He stood with Tiphaine, looking at the lean faces of the visitors. ‘They’re all close to starving, but we’ve so little to give them,’ he added softly.

  Tiphaine glanced at him. ‘You don’t look exactly tubby yourself,’ she murmured. ‘Don’t forget to eat, Saul. If you give it all to them, who’ll be here to help the next lot?’

  He bowed his head. ‘You’re right,’ he sighed. Then, as if it were just too distressing to dwell on the sorry state of them all, he said, ‘Could the child simply have wandered off into the forest and got lost?’

  ‘I pray you’re right,’ she replied. She didn’t see any need to tell him about the stranger who looked like Joanna’s son. The poor man had enough to worry about already.

  Helewise spent the morning making successive forays out from Meggie’s hut, steadily covering all the ground in its immediate vicinity. She found nothing. She returned to the hut to prepare a simple meal, wondering how soon Tiphaine would be back. Perhaps Meggie would come over. It would be good, to sit down with both of them to eat.

  Tiphaine came back around noon and made her brief report. ‘Nobody’s got anything to offer,’ she concluded, ‘but then it’s early days yet.’

  ‘Yes,’ Helewise agreed. Not even a full night and day had passed, she reflected. It was not very long, really.

  ‘Where’s Meggie?’ Tiphaine asked suddenly.

  ‘She hasn’t come back,’ Helewise answered. ‘Since she’s not here, I imagine she’s with Josse at the House in the Woods. She was there yesterday.’ She hesitated, then, since it was Tiphaine to whom she spoke, went on: ‘She seems to be able to pick up a – a sense of people, from the very ground itself,’ she said slowly.