The Nun's Tale (21 page)

Owen glanced out of the window, remembering the river.

Matthew caught the look. ‘You are thinking she walked into the river.’ He frowned, nodded. ‘Her cloak lay not far from the riverbank, hanging on a branch, as if she had put it there to keep it out of the mud.’ Matthew was silent a moment, staring down at his feet. Then he sighed, looked back at Owen with a forced smile. ‘But I prefer to think she ran off with someone who shares her strangeness. You see, Joanna and Hugh shared their strangeness, and they were content in each other’s company.’

That brief moment of silence, then the forced smile; at last Owen felt he had glimpsed Matthew’s suffering. Deep, kept down with a strong will. Might the drowning story have been told to stop gossip? ‘Was your wife sad that Joanna and Hugh had grown up and left her?’

Matthew rolled his eyes. ‘Far from it. By then Anne wanted nothing to do with either of them. She said –’ An odd, dark look came over the round face, then passed. ‘No matter what she said. Anne saw the world sideways and upside-down. But I tell you, life has been quiet since the moon-mad Boulains have been out of the house.’

‘You have never searched the river?’

Matthew closed his eyes. ‘She was a beautiful woman, Master Archer. And the madness – it can be captivating, I tell you. The faraway look in the eyes, the half-smile.’ He shook his head. ‘She had that look on that cold, grey morning. So beautiful she was.’ Tears crept from the closed lids. ‘I wish to remember her that way. It would –’ His voice broke. He wiped his cheeks with his sleeves. ‘I do not want to know.’

Owen rose and poured himself more ale, stared out of the window, working to put down the image – of Lucie, bloated, lifeless – that wanted to darken his mind. He had seen the bodies of the drowned. He understood why Matthew did not wish to see his wife so.

Louth’s voice broke him out of his reverie. ‘Where is your son Hugh, Master Calverley?’

Owen returned to his seat.

Matthew Calverley brightened at the change in subject. ‘Hugh is at Scarborough Castle, working for the King’s stewards there, the Percies. You see, that’s where Will Longford comes in. Anne meant Hugh for the Church, but that was never right for him. He wanted to fight.’ Matthew shrugged. ‘Truth be told, he wanted to kill. Which did not sound like a vocation to the Church to me. It’s the sort of mismatch that creates trouble. And Hugh was already trouble enough. So, being a father who would rather meet up with his children in Heaven some day, I reminded the Percies of a favour they owed me.’

‘What sort of favour?’ Louth asked.

Owen could see that his companion was very alert now.

Matthew began to take another drink, but put the tankard down on the floor beside his footstool instead. Owen was glad of it. Their host’s nose was already red from the ale. He did not want the man to get fuzzy headed and fall asleep before they had learned what they could from him.

‘I offered to forget the balance of a loan I’d made them if they took Hugh into their service. They liked the terms, set him a task. They’d obtained a seal carried by a Frenchman whose ship went down in the North Sea. The Frenchman had drowned, but his squire traded the seal and information for a warmer cell in the castle dungeon. He told the Percies that his master’s destination was Beverley, though he did not know for what purpose.’

Louth rose, poured himself more wine, returned to his seat. ‘What was this seal?’

‘St Sebastian. The martyr with all the arrows stuck in him.’

Owen nodded. ‘Patron saint of archers.’

Matthew went to the table and cut some bread, nibbling on it as he stood a moment, gazing out of the window.

‘Forgive us for taking you away from your garden on such a day,’ Owen said.

Matthew flicked his free hand up, palm forward. ‘Do not apologise. In truth, I meander in my explanations. You must herd me to the gate, gentlemen, or you shall be here at Calvary till Doomsday.’

Owen accepted the challenge. ‘What did the seal have to do with Longford?’

‘There were reports that Longford was frequently in Scarborough, though no one knew where he stayed. The Percies believed he was still working with du Guesclin.’

‘So what was Hugh’s task?’

Matthew put some cheese on the bread. ‘Hugh was to present the seal to Will Longford, tell him of the shipwreck, say he’d tried to save the envoy, who had paid him well to deliver the seal to Longford and had enticed him further with the promise that Longford would recommend him to one of the better captains in the Free Companies.’ Matthew bit off a mouthful of bread, chewed thoughtfully.

‘They hoped Longford would be foolish enough to admit a connection with du Guesclin?’ Owen asked.

‘Some such. One of the younger Percies was in the town, awaiting a signal from Hugh.’ Matthew popped the rest of the bread and cheese into his mouth.

Louth snorted. ‘An impossible assignment.’

Matthew returned to his seat, and took up his mazer, drinking deeply. ‘Though he’s quite an actor, Hugh failed. Longford not only didn’t slip up, he saw through him, Hugh could tell, and he got worried about Joanna – she was with him. He bundled Joanna off to her aunt at once.’

‘Why was she with him at Longford’s?’

‘He was escorting her to my sister Winifred, near Hull – for instruction in the wifely arts, Anne was no good as a teacher. He should have gone first to Winifred, but Joanna begged to see Beverley.’

‘How did Hugh lose the seal?’ Owen asked.

Matthew shook his head. ‘The fool left it at Longford’s while he took Joanna to my sister’s house. When Hugh returned, Longford had disappeared, and the seal with him. Nothing to prove, no trail to follow.’

‘Was Joanna privy to Hugh’s purpose?’

‘Nay. We had agreed he must not tell her the truth. It could be dangerous for her, she would be near Beverley. As far as she knew, he was supposed to escort her to Winifred’s, then go south to Oxford. He was to confide to her that his meeting with Longford was a secret plan to get some money and strike out on his own and so escape the Church.’ Matthew frowned, scratched his cheek. ‘You say she stole a relic with which to trade? And went to Longford?’

Owen nodded.

‘Poor little chit. She believed his story. He told her he planned to sell Longford a stolen relic – the arm of St Hardulph of Breedon, our relic from the parish. Hugh was always frightening her with tales of St Hardulph’s bones, saying they did not rest easy, that Hardulph missed his home. Once, when he and Joanna found an arm on the riverbank, Hugh told her it was the arm of St Hardulph, trying to get home to Breedon. For weeks Joanna begged us to send the saint back home.’

Louth chuckled. ‘A wondrous spinner of tales, your Hugh.’

Matthew sighed, stared into his mazer. ‘One of the Boulain gifts. But it is a cursed gift. They forget now and then what they made up and what is real.’

‘She seems confused at present about a blue shawl she wears. She says it is Our Lady’s mantle.’

Matthew shook his head. ‘You see? And after living with her day in and day out saying it is, then it isn’t, it is, then it isn’t, you would not know what was true about it.’

‘So Hugh told Joanna he was taking St Hardulph to Longford?’

‘Yes. But they were to pretend it was St Sebastian’s arm, which would fetch far more money than St Hardulph’s. That was how Hugh twisted it round so he could say St Sebastian at the door.’

Owen thought it unnecessarily complicated. ‘And she believed it?’

‘How else did she get the idea to try it herself? And it was a believable story. He would use the money to outfit himself as a soldier.’ Matthew rubbed his forehead. ‘You must understand. They played together, wove these tales, and I swear they believed half of them. When they were young, their mother would say it was all in fun, she had played so as a child, it was good to dream while young. But as they got older she did not think it so innocent.’ He frowned, clutched the mazer, drained it.

‘How did the Percies feel about Hugh’s failure?’

‘It was the Percies who wrote to me and told me the sad story. Hugh’s poor judgement had cost them the seal; they might have put it to good use sending du Guesclin false reports. But they took Hugh on, said he had proved his courage and the mistake would make him try that much harder.’

‘Have you seen Hugh recently?’

Matthew shook his head. ‘Not since he and Joanna went to Beverley.’

‘How long ago was that?’

Matthew closed his eyes, tapped a finger on the arm of his chair, muttered to himself. ‘Seven years, there-abouts. Joanna was but thirteen.’ He shook his head. ‘Fool thing to betroth her to Jason Miller. I should have known such a dreamy child expected a prince, not an old merchant who wanted a nursemaid for his daughters.’

‘Tell us about that.’

‘Little to tell. Six, seven months later a letter came from my sister saying to expect Joanna in a week’s time, she had insulted her betrothed and fasted until she was ill and mad with fever visions, and was begging to be sent to a convent.’

‘You were embarrassed by the broken engagement?’

Matthew rolled his eyes. ‘That is not the half of it. She was a vixen, gentlemen. Always flirting. Could not take her to a fair or procession, anything in the city, without having to break her grip on a young man and drag her home. Next day the young man would come calling and she’d refuse to see him. And she stared at herself. Polished little metal mirrors everywhere. We found her once in the river meadow running naked – at thirteen, mind you, and boats up and down the river all the time. She was –’ He leaned back, head in hand. ‘When Jason Miller, a nice, stable widower, offered his hand, and a home in Hull, away from all the gossip, Anne and I could not resist the chance to be rid of her.’

‘Whatever made you agree to her entering the convent?’

Matthew shook his head. ‘When she returned from Beverley, so thin and whispering to herself about devils and dreams and God and the cross, we did not know what to think. All the bloom was gone. She had bald patches, her teeth were loose. I wanted to blame my sister, but in my heart I knew. After Anne lost our first babe, she sat in a corner of the hall and sang for days and days. I thought I would go mad. She would drink no water, her voice grew hoarse, disappeared to a whisper, and still she sang, sang, sang. And then one day a chapman came selling odds and ends. She heard his patter in the yard and went out. She touched a set of needles. One of them pricked her. She bought all the needles he carried and came in the house with them, went up to bed, slept for two days. When she woke, she said, “My blood has come forth again. I am meant to live.” ’ Matthew shivered and crossed himself.

Owen and Louth exchanged puzzled looks.

‘You decided Joanna was like her mother and might be better off in the convent?’ Owen guessed.

‘When madness begets madness, perhaps it is better to end the line, eh?’ Matthew looked at their frowns, shook his head. ‘You cannot know, either of you. You keep hoping it is a passing mood, that tomorrow she will make sense, that you will have a sensible partner. You rejoice when she wakes with clear eyes, practical worries, reasonable reactions to household problems. You mourn when the vagueness returns.’

Louth lifted an eyebrow. ‘It is a wonder that your son Hugh is retained by the Percies if he behaves so.’

Matthew shrugged. ‘Hugh embraces danger. That is desirable in what he does. And he seems merely a weaver of tales, not a liar, not mad. Just comes out differently in Hugh.’

Owen grew curious to meet Hugh Calverley. ‘Why did your wife turn against Hugh and Joanna?’

Matthew frowned, stood up as if to get more ale, but just stood with his back to his guests, looking out at the garden. ‘It does not matter. She saw plots and transgressions in everything. I paid her no heed. Had I listened to Anne I would have gone mad myself.’

‘So you do not think that Joanna’s flight from the convent and Mistress Calverley’s disappearance are related?’

Matthew shook his head. ‘I do not say it lightly when I tell you Anne turned against them. I was at my wit’s end when the letter came from my sister, warning of Joanna’s return. Anne said she would not let Joanna in the house. It was only after I exaggerated Joanna’s reported vocation that Anne agreed to having Joanna in the house for a short time.’

‘Did Joanna know of her mother’s feelings?’

‘Joanna is seldom aware of the feelings of others.’

Owen found it an interesting observation.

‘The prioress of St Clement’s is a Percy,’ Louth said, changing the subject yet again. ‘Did she take Joanna as a favour to you?’

Matthew took a moment to answer. ‘A Percy?’ He frowned. ‘Nay. Seven years back the prioress was not a Percy. Sir William Percy merely suggested the convent was poor, might accept Joanna with a generous dowry. He had placed a poor relation there. Perhaps she is the present prioress.’

The shadows lengthened in the garden. Owen grew tired of sitting. He rose. ‘You have been most helpful, Master Calverley.’

Matthew rose in haste. ‘But surely you will stay to supper?’

Louth followed Owen’s lead and rose. ‘You are kind to offer, but we have men to see to, and a long journey tomorrow.’

Matthew looked disappointed.

‘There is one other piece of information that would be of use,’ Owen said. ‘Do you know where your son stays in Scarborough? Is he actually up at the castle?’